


His Own Garden

by hawkeing_eta



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Eventual Fluff, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-03-06 22:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeing_eta/pseuds/hawkeing_eta
Summary: Akira spends his time working or studying or outfitting the team and yet Yusuke recalls the gentle contentment in his eyes as they stood side-by-side down in the station, simply watching the crowds go by in companionable silence last week.Yusuke coughs abruptly and quickly covers his mouth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [3/23/18 - Epilogue added]
> 
> My piece for the Shukita Big Bang Event! I was a late entry writer, so I surprised myself with how much I actually managed to get done.
> 
> I was paired with Shao, and you have been such a tremendous help with this! Thank you for all the help and hard work!! This fic wouldn't have turned out as well as it did without you and all your suggestions. Thank you again! \o/
> 
> Shao also did this amazing piece for the event, and it came out stunning!
> 
> Please be sure to check out Shao's [tumblr](http://4nimenut.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/4nimenut) as well!

_ _

 

 

_ June 4, Saturday; Evening _

> **[New Message]:** ****  
>  **[Akira]:** It’s Sunday tomorrow.   
>  **[Akira]:** If you need somewhere to clear your head, I work at the flower shop in the underground mall in Shibuya.   
>  **[Akira]:** Feel free to stop by.

The texts surprise him. Yusuke considered ignoring the messages, thinking it was Ryuji with one last statement to get in on their previous group chat. He hadn’t expected it to be from Akira. And a direct message, not just from their group chat. It was the most he’s seen him text, yet he’s still direct and to the point.

Madarame was still on the phone in the other room, the thin walls barely hiding anything. Doubt unwillingly settled in the back of his mind—chilling but not a comfort like Goemon’s new presence.

> **[Yusuke]:** I think that is a wonderful idea.   
>  **[Yusuke]:** Thank you.

He shuts his phone off, and Yusuke is left in the dark room. He considers sketching some of his books and supplies littered about. If his hands are busy, he can’t concentrate on the muttered words of his teacher or the cryptic way he’s speaking. Madarame is revealing nothing, yet his words carry a heavy weight. Yusuke’s hands itch for his brushes.

His phone buzzes and lights up, illuminating little but himself.

> **[Akira]:** If you need anything, just let me know.

Yusuke’s fingers tap uselessly against the side of his phone, rereading the message and deciding to leave it at that.

Akira is very kind.

 

_ June 5, Sunday; Morning _

Yusuke left his room when he finally heard his teacher begin to shuffle around the old shack. The creaking is too familiar. He can almost pinpoint Madarame’s exact location just from the groaning wood alone. It brings about a familiar sense of dread, faintly pricking at the back of his neck. It’s an automatic response. He doesn’t think about it.

No matter how this pans out today, whether with a confession or a conviction, this is it. He passed the point of no return long ago, and despite his eagerness, Yusuke still has some apprehension. His hands ball up tight at this side—he’s glad his nails healed as fast as they had—and he makes his way to the entrance of the house.

This is it.

This is his last chance to pressure Madarame for answers. It had become habit to watch his steps, keep them light— _ the floor creaks there and there, then again by the painting on the wall _ —but Yusuke makes himself ignore it. For once, he wants his presence known.

Madarame is already at the entrance, the rusted door squeaking then clacking shut behind him.

All that prep work, and Yusuke deflates. There’s a car outside and it grows faint as it drives away. Slumping against the wall in the small hallway, Yusuke looks over the grain of the wood. He hesitated to think of what it would mean to come to the others with no more information of who that black mask could be. This was his last opportunity to press but he knew he would just get more of the same avoidance and clueless answers. A heavy sigh leaves him and he crumples a little more into himself.

Yusuke hopes the others are right.

He hopes Sensei will be okay.

His hands fidget before he reaches into his pocket to check the time on his phone, pulling up the chat application afterwards. Akira’s offer may be more needed than he originally thought.

 

Shibuya is bustling like always. Navigating the crowds is second nature. The bright vibrant ads and casual chattering of the groups of people vying for his attention, and as much as Yusuke would usually lose himself to people watching, he has somewhere to be.

The underground mall isn’t quite as crowded as the station, but coupled with his unfamiliarity of the location of this supposed flower shop and the groups of high schoolers loitering about, it takes Yusuke a good half hour before he finally arrives.

It’s the scent of fresh cut flowers that catches his attention first, then a young woman standing in front of displays of arrangements and bouquets. Most are fairly simple, pretty but made to sell. But there’s a few that look like a lot of time and love have been up into them. She’s tending to one such arrangement with such a content look on her face. There aren’t many people stopping by, but the soft smile on her face says everything. Yusuke could appreciate that determination and passion.

A soft “Oh!” slips out as he approaches and the young woman is slipping her clippers into her apron. She bows politely.

“Welcome!” Her voice is kind and Yusuke wonders if this is Akira’s boss. It’s a small business and he can’t imagine there are many employees.

“My apologies, but I’m looking for someone,” Yusuke says, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and glancing at a nearby arrangement. It would make a lovely still life. “Does Kurusu work here by chance?”

“Kurusu-kun? Are you a friend of his?”

He nods in affirmation and she turns towards the back of the shop. “Kurusu-kun! Could you come here please?”

It’s only when Yusuke actually looks that he finally spots Akira. He seemed so focused on an arrangement he had been working on of white Roses and Baby’s Breath. Yusuke isn’t as practiced in the art of flower arrangement, but he thinks it’s not quite there yet—and with the look on Akira’s face, he seems to think the same. But there’s potential. It will reach it with just a little more work.

Yusuke doesn’t notice he’s smiling until Akira approaches with one of his own.

“If you’d like, you can take a short break,” the young woman says to Akira with a kind smile, “You’ve been working hard today.” She excuses herself politely to the back of the store. Yusuke isn’t sure what to do with himself, unused to visiting someone at their place of work and overall still trying to sort through all his racing thoughts.

Maybe he should just get to it and admit he was unable to gather any more information from Madarame. Should he voice his concerns? They’ve said they had stolen a despicable teacher’s treasure that lead to his confession of his horrible crimes. But one result a pattern does not make. Yusuke knows the truth and he’s become able to face his own deceit along with that of his former teacher’s. For that he’ll be forever grateful to Akira and the others. Maybe he can finally start to heal.

But what if something went wrong? What if Sensei worsens and collapses? He doesn’t want to worry, but he’s worrying so much.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Akira’s gentle nudge brings him out of his thoughts and Yusuke is grateful. A thought crosses his mind and Yusuke decides he needs to be honest if any continued cooperation is going to occur.

“I must apologize, Akira,” Yusuke says, looking away and brow furrowed, “I was unable to pray any new information from Madarame before he left this morning. I’m afraid we are no closer to an answer.”

Yusuke expects some sort of backlash. What he knows of Akira, it seems unlikely, yet Madarame was kind around others. Yusuke remembers clearly how uncomfortable his studio is to sleep in.

“That’s alright.” Akira says it so simply and earnestly it throws Yusuke off. “Considering he didn’t know about our involvement in the palace or when you asked him before, I had some doubts he knew anything at all.” Akira’s hands slip into his pockets and Yusuke isn’t sure how to respond to this level of nonchalance in the face of his failure. There’s no anger, no disappointment. Just a soft, earnest smile.

Yusuke realizes Akira is very kind with no strings attached. There is no small print.

“Thanks for trying, though,” Akira starts again, looking off to the faceless crowd of people around them, “That was brave of you to confront him like that.”

“…You’re welcome,” is all Yusuke can manage.

“My shift is over in about half an hour if you don’t mind waiting around for me. We’ll meet up with the others afterwards to figure out what’s going on with that announcement,” Akira says, looking back to Yusuke. He nods and Akira smiles as he turns back to tend to his arrangement again. If he’s going to be waiting around, Yusuke might as well take advantage of the spare time and wealth of potential around him.

He takes his sketchbook out from his bag as he examines a nearby display of white Carnations. The frilled petals twist and fold and cradle droplets of water gently.

“Do you know much about flowers?” Akira asks from his corner, adjusting how a rose is standing in the vase. Yusuke doesn’t look up from his pencil and paper. The intricate lacing of the Carnation petals requires considerate attention to detail.

“Aside from basic care and the rudimentary language people have assigned certain species, I can’t say that I do,” Yusuke finally answers. “I’ve painted a my share of still lifes, but I can say any knowledge I have is from a purely aesthetic viewpoint.”

Akira hums at the answer as he considers the flowers in front of him.

“If you’re ever interested, maybe I could teach you some things. It’s kind of neat.” Yusuke finally looks up from his sketch and sees Akira looking over his shoulder at him. He shrugs with a smile as he turns back to the arrangement.

“I’ll consider it.” Yusuke smiles to himself and continues his study until Akira’s shift is over.

 

The distant sobbing pulls Yusuke from his detailed sketch. It’s small and distorted from a tiny speaker, but it still manages to freeze over his entire spine. He turns, searching, and finds a small group of young women huddled near a display rack of shoes from the next shop over. There’s a phone in one of their hands. All of them are gawking and Yusuke stares.

“Oh my god, he’s really crying,” the woman holding the phone says as the other two keep watching. Yusuke feels his stomach start to bottom out and the only thing keeping him from throwing up is his empty stomach. His vision tunnels.

Despite the distance and the background chatter, he is still able to catch that familiar voice apologizing, only to begin wailing a moment later.

The world seems to freeze the moment Madarame confessed.

The women disperse and Yusuke unconsciously starts to follow. He needs to hear more. His heart is pounding in his chest and ears and Yusuke needs to hear more before the anxious energy fizzing under his skin gets the better of him.

A hand on his sleeve stops him and he’s startled to find Akira looking up to him. Akira has his phone in hand and a live feed playing of a news anchor, but Yusuke doesn’t catch any of what the man is saying.

Yusuke was there. He saw it happen first hand—he himself walked off with the treasure. Yet it still feels surreal. Yusuke looks to Akira. His eyes are hard to read behind the large frames but it doesn’t dampen the intensity. Akira is assured and confident and that itself brought comfort.

They were right.

Akira was right.

It won’t hit him until later, Yusuke knows. Not until he heads back to the shack to collect his things, and all he’ll be met with his complete silence. It’s what he’s used to and yet knowing it will remain that way feels terribly unsettling.

“My shift is over,” Akira finally says. He hasn’t looked away and Yusuke realized he let himself lose focus. He glances back down to Akira’s phone, still playing the live feed of the news. He manages to catch something about psych evaluations and responsibility.

Yusuke realizes he isn’t sure what to feel. His heart won’t stop pounding.

“Do you need a moment?” Akira asks gently. Yusuke attempts to swallow down the bile at the back of his throat.

“Perhaps,” Yusuke manages, and winces at how rough his voice has become. Akira nods and gives Yusuke’s arm a squeeze before letting go. It’s only then that he realizes how badly his eyes are stinging.

Stepping back towards the shop, Akira pauses.

“I’ll grab my things, then we can head to the access way whenever you’re ready.” Maybe he’s imagining it, but he thinks Akira hesitates before he leaves Yusuke to his thoughts.

It’s odd. Perhaps he had envisioned freedom feeling different. More likely, a terrible, abusive man is going to prison and Yusuke will miss him. He hates that. Despite his prior declarations, Yusuke abhors the attachment and as he steps away from the shop front, he feels dizzy.

Yusuke checks his phone. Someone has already posted a recording of the live announcement and he presses the play button with shaky fingers. A cold knot settles deep in his gut as he watches, transfixed on each and every sobbing word his mentor says. His free hand comes up and covers his mouth as his brows knit together.

He doesn’t want to admit he had doubts. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the distrust but he supposes he already has, hasn’t he? He nearly drops his phone as he goes to pause the video when he realizes he could no longer see clearly. His eyes sting as he tries to keep himself at some semblance of together.

Akira’s sudden presence should have startled him more than it did. He’s silent as he leans against the nearby wall, slouched and casual. For a brief moment Yusuke wonders why he isn’t saying anything, but Akira is looking down at his phone. The news feed from earlier is gone and the home screen sits idly. He isn’t looking at anything.

Yusuke finally catches the tell in Akira’s shaking fingers. The cold panic pricking under his skin subsides just a touch when he realizes the other is trying to avoid making Yusuke’s unraveling stand out. Somehow, that is a comfort and he simply stares.

Yusuke doesn’t know Akira very well. What he does know is that he is stubborn and very kind.

It’s enough.

Yusuke straightens and wipes at his eyes; Akira finally looks up. His eyes still sting, but Yusuke offers a resolute smile nonetheless.

“I am ready,” Yusuke says.

Akira returns the smile.

 

_ June 9, Thursday; Evening _

The dorms are nothing like Madarame’s shack. The rooms are small, though Yusuke has few things and doesn’t take up much space to begin with. No, the size and minimal space isn’t so much the issue. The other students who live here as well are much noisier than Yusuke is used to. Even before the shack had grown deathly silent, the former live-in pupils were never this rambunctious. Nor would they dare leave the shared living space in such a state of disarray.

How one could possibly get any work done was beyond him and he questions his decision to move in here.

The convenience was certainly appealing, but the sounds are grating and cuts into his concentration. The clutter outside is distracting but he can’t simply lock himself in his room all day. He does anyway before it becomes too much and he must step away from his canvas or sketch pads and spends the rest of the evening people watching at the station.

A change is needed, Yusuke decides.

His sketchbook snaps closed as a shrill laugh from somewhere down the hall grates against his ears. He hasn’t made much progress on these thumbnails and he considers it a shame. He leans forward on his desk and rests his mouth against his folded hands.

Yusuke cannot stay here, but there is little option. The thought of going back to the now abandoned shack crosses his mind, but it is quickly dismissed with a sharp jolt of cold dread. His eyes squeeze shut and the thought upsets his near empty stomach. That is simply out of the question. Nothing good will come of that.

A thought strikes, and what a strange thing to remember that he has friends he could lean on. It’s much to ask, even he can recognize that, but now that the idea has sprouted he cannot dismiss it.

He’ll stay with one of them. There’s convenience to it as well as he would be none the farther if the group ever needed to meet up without the worry of dorm curfews. Not to mention no blatant, albeit jovial, yelling from the next room over. Yusuke’s brow twitches.

As he considers the options, Yusuke concludes Ann is the only rational option. Ryuji, although typically well-meaning, is much too loud and vulgar. If he remembers correctly, it’s also just him and his mother. Somehow, it doesn’t feel right to intrude on them.

Akira would make a wonderful roommate with his naturally quiet demeanor, but his residence isn’t permanent due to his transfer. Now that Yusuke thinks on it, he’s not entirely sure where Akira is living.

Which just leaves Ann, who’s parents are frequently absent and seems to have a much more stable home life. Although, he realizes with some hesitation, he will need to find some new form of inspiration.

What he had considered to be his inspiration had turned out to be simple fascination. Ann is beautiful. There is no argument against the statement. However, now that he has gotten to know her Yusuke realizes that although she is certainly considerate and charming with her bright smile, she lacks the refinement that he is looking for in a subject.

He wants to convey grace and beauty, like how Akira moves while in the Metaverse. He’s fluid, like he’s dancing through the air and around Shadows in an alluring spectacle and Yusuke wants nothing more than capture exactly that.

Yusuke does not need simple inspiration. Yusuke needs a muse.

Akira does have a rather pleasant smile. This is certainly something worth looking into.

 

_ June 11, Saturday; Evening _

Even from the attic, Yusuke could hear the bell downstairs chime as it closes for the last time that night. His skin still feels warm and soft from the bath earlier, though his content pliancy doesn’t seem to be shared. Yusuke idly watches Akira pace his spacious room—which Yusuke still considers to be quite ordinary despite Ryuji’s insistence something was wrong with it.

Something is clearly on Akira’s mind. Even Morgana seems to watch with concern, though Yusuke can’t quite pin exactly what the issue is. Akira keeps glancing at his bed and then to the large shelf by the stairs with the large cardboard box on the bottom row.

Maybe his mind is restless. Yusuke is familiar with such fixation and how a racing mind can become overwhelming. He leans forward on his knees as he watches a moment longer from his seat on the couch.

“Aren’t you going to sleep yet?” Even just resting his eyes would be better than this continued fretting, but when Akira looks to him, somewhat startled, maybe Yusuke is a little off base. Still, he feels his suggestion is best. “I will be fine here. I sleep in my studio on occasion, so this is luxurious in comparison.”

His attempt to placate seems to backfire. Akira’s brows furrow minutely behind his frames.

“That’s...” Akira starts, but reconsiders his words. His shoulders slouch. “Yusuke, that’s not even a proper couch. It’s an extra booth seat from downstairs.”

Semantics. Yusuke doesn’t understand why that needed to be pointed out. He had let Ann doze off here earlier. Why was this different?

Akira sighs, and rubs the back of his neck.

“Just because something is better than you’re used to, doesn’t make it good.”

Yusuke considers the words. He still doesn’t quite understand why this is such a big issue to Akira, and there aren’t many options.

“Take my bed tonight. I’ll take the couch. I know you said you prefer futons, but it’ll just be for tonight,” Akira says and brings his hand up to his lips in consideration as he looks over to the rather empty corner of his room. He’s muttering something about needing to stop by a store tomorrow.

Yusuke is left even more confused.

“Why would you take the couch yet tell me I can’t sleep here?”

Akira looks back to him, surprised. There’s such a flaw in his logic, even Akira doesn’t seem to have a response.

“If you won’t let me sleep here, then I cannot let you. I see little option,” Yusuke stands and folds his arms in front of him. “We’ll share the bed.”

Akira deadpans.

“It’s... a little small.” Akira can’t seem to keep eye contact as he looks away, twisting some of his bangs between his fingers. Yusuke notes the light pink dusting on his cheeks, like Rose petals. It’s not a color he's ever seen on their leader’s face before and he finds it fascinating.

“I’m fine sleeping in cramps spaces.”

Somehow, that doesn’t seem to comfort Akira. The pink is gone and instead Akira just stares. Yusuke decides to ignore it. His suggestion still stands.

Akira sighs as he resigns.

“Alright.”

Yusuke smiles.

As they get ready for bed, Yusuke notes the fumbling and slight hesitance from Akira as he changes and what an odd thing. Despite it, it doesn’t deter Yusuke and he finds himself thinking back to Ann. She’s so much more than just a beautiful girl, constructed of many different facets that make up who she is, each one interesting and uniquely her. Akira is the same, and yet his blend almost too perfectly into one another.

Akira’s face has that light dusting again as he tugs on his lounge pants. Yusuke wonders what paints he could use to try to get that exact shade. It would be hard, and he hopes he would be more than one chance to try. He wants to find those lines.

They finally settle in bed, Akira taking the side closest to the wall, and they both stare up at the ceiling. The wood grain is unfamiliar yet Yusuke is glad it isn’t that different than what he’s used to.

“...Yusuke?” Akira speaks up, quiet and Yusuke just barely catches it. He turns just enough to look, but Akira is keeping his gaze up toward the banisters overhead. His fingers twist the thin bed sheet absentmindedly.

“Yes?”

“I meant what I said the other day.”

Yusuke isn’t quite sure what he is referencing, and his silence seems to be enough of a hint that Akira should elaborate. His eyes finally drift down from overhead, though Akira is still not quite looking at him. Yusuke takes the moment to genuinely look over Akira’s features, highlighted by the warm glow of the street lamps outside. It’s not often that he gets to see his face like this—not obscured by large frames or elegant mask.

Akira finally looks over to him and his dark gray eyes catch the fleeting light and Yusuke’s breath. It’s ethereal. The stars themselves shine in those eyes. 

“I’m all ears if you need it.”

Has Akira always been capable of this?

Yusuke finally nods slowly, realizing he needs to respond in someway. He takes a breath and doesn’t dare pull his own eyes away.

“I know,” Yusuke mutters earnestly.

Akira keeps his eyes on him for a moment longer before he nods to himself and finally turns back to look up towards the bare banisters again. Akira is always such a mystery and Yusuke finds he desperately wants to understand.

Depicting the human form in its true nature has always been a driving force, and yet this is the first time he wants to understand a person on a fundamental level. Yusuke wants to understand Akira and his unique sense of aesthetics. This could be the stepping stone he has been slipping on.

Yusuke turns away and settles deeper into the mattress. There’s much to consider.

 

_ June 12, Sunday; Afternoon _

His face feels warm when he finally rouses. The sunlight from the window is odd yet comforting and it’s only then that he realizes it had been quite some time since he had let himself sleep in for this long. It wasn’t a habit he was ready to pick up, but maybe once in a while. He could afford to do that now.

Yusuke sits up at that thought, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and notes the sleeping cat across the room on the couch. He pauses. He hadn’t considered Morgana last night. With his adamant refusal to let Akira take the couch, was it rude to make Morgana sleep there? He was much more suited for it and he seems to be sleeping peacefully enough.

Stretching out the everpresent kink in his neck, Yusuke decides to leave it at that. It won’t be an issue after today, anyway.

He sighs, and looks over to Akira. The other is still sleeping. The light from the window is catching in his messy hair, highlighting the rich brown undertones he doesn’t normally get to see. Akira looks peaceful, soft in his sleep and Yusuke does not wish to interrupt it.

Carefully slipping from the mattress, Yusuke shuffles through the few things he had brought with him. He manages to get the light blue box from the bottom of his tote with little noise and pulls out his school pants and one of the few shirts folded inside. His hands pause when he finishes putting everything back.

Yusuke had made a decision and he is terribly grateful to Akira and the others for helping him realize what he needs to do.

Yusuke does not understand other people. They hadn’t seemed to understand him, so making the effort hadn’t made sense until now. He stands, clothes in hand, and looks back over to Akira who clears his throat in his sleep and rolls over. After a glimpse of what people are capable of, Yusuke now wants to understand. And as much as he wants to pick and analyze the pieces that make Akira who he is, he cannot do that here.

If he wants to depict people, their true nature as humans, he needs to learn more of them. And not just from one person. Akira is the goal, but diving head first will only hinder him.

With new resolve, Yusuke changes and gathers his things together. As he’s about to take his things downstairs where he can hear Sojiro tinkering with some of the coffee siphons, he pauses and looks back towards the bed.

Is it rude to leave without saying something? Akira looks too peaceful for him to disrupt and he does not want to disturb the soft visage. He’ll tell Sojiro.

 

Yusuke takes his phone out on the train ride back to the Kosei dorms.

> **[New Message]:** ****  
>  **[Yusuke]:** Thank you again for letting me stay the night.   
>  **[Yusuke]:** Apologies for leaving so quietly, but your rest seemed peaceful.   
>  **[Yusuke]:** After a great deal of inner struggle, I have decided to return to the dormitories.

 

_ June 14, Tuesday; Evening _

Yusuke hadn’t planned on staying as long as he had. It started with a simple desire to see the painting again and making a simple request of Akira. He had proven time and time again he was good on his word. Yusuke could trust Akira to at least hear him out.

He hadn’t planned on bearing so much of his heart to Akira, either. Although his worries were sound, the anxiety surrounding them were clearly stalling his hand and tainting his canvas. Yusuke could not paint like this. He needed help and, oh, how his heart leaped when Akira agreed to offer his assistance. And so willingly! Truly, luck was on his side.

This willingness to assist was not something Yusuke had come across much. He would forever be in Akira’s debt.

“Are you doing okay in the dorms?” Akira asks from his side, under his own umbrella. When Yusuke glances over, Akira is looking ahead down the narrow side street.

Yusuke had not planned on Akira joining him on his walk to the station.

“It’s... tolerable,” Yusuke says. It’s the truth. “Although the other residents may become a bit... much at times, I cannot simply run from it. If I am to depict people in my art, then there is little sense in avoiding them.”

“It’s not a bad first step,” Akira says. The light off the streetlamps and puddles from the pavement glow warm on his skin. Akira’s hair is frizzier than usual. The humidity must be getting to it. There are a few strands not settling correctly and Yusuke wants to fix it so it frames his face better.

The rain patters against his own umbrella. Yusuke finally looks away. Despite the small crowd of other people, it’s just them.

They finally reach the stairs to the station and Akira pauses. Yusuke looks back.

“If you ever need a break, I have a spare futon.”

Yusuke considers what exactly that means, and he suddenly realizes what Akira is saying. Akira fidgets with the handle of his umbrella, but doesn’t lose eye contact.

Is Akira this generous with the others? He offers Ann much of his time and his shoulder as she deals with that friend of hers that's currently still hospitalized. Yusuke doesn't know much more than that, but it is obviously a heavy weight.

Yes, Akira is just kind.

Yusuke smiles.

“I appreciate it.”

 

_ June 23, Thursday; After School _

Joker is pushing Queen. No one is arguing against it, least of all Queen who seems eager to prove herself. And she is, effortlessly. She hasn’t left the vanguard since they arrived—Joker had done the same thing to Fox when he had first joined as well. She shows little signs of slowing down. Her quick insight and instincts are refreshing and invaluable.

An engine roars and Shadows explode with a burst of pure energy they have never seen before. Fox is not ready to bow down as quick as Skull or Mona had been, but he can respect her authority now that she has proven herself and made up for her brash mistake.

It is not lost on Fox that he is frequently on vanguard as well. They’ve developed a rhythm and they  _ work _ . It didn’t start out that way, and how Joker is watching Queen, focused on how she moves, how she integrates with her Persona like no one else, it shows the consideration and effort he put into it. It took practice. It’s like a puzzle. Joker is malleable. He can fit himself into any situation and find a solution for anything. He is bullheaded enough and Queen is a challenge for him. He will not have her change, but will easily change himself for his teammates.

Fox is grateful for this unintentional opportunity that Joker provides. If Fox is on vanguard, then he gets to witness that adaptability first hand. He is determined to solve Joker as well.

All the work Joker puts into the team, he deserves Fox to return the favor.

“One left,” Queen calls out as she rights herself, grounded in her wide stance. The Shadow left is small, a fairy that has its eyes locked on Joker as it hovers silently. It’s unnerving, it always has been, but Shadows always seem to lock onto Joker. It’s as though they know. They sense something in him and don’t seem to acknowledge anyone else unless it’s during a fight.

Akira is special in so many ways. Some have Yusuke worry.

It's small hand thrusts forward and the ground below Mona’s feet starts to bubble. He’s caught off guard and when the bubbles rise and finally pop around him, Mona staggers, dazed, before collapsing in a heap. Joker is already dashing towards the fallen cat.

“Fox, boost Queen!” He’s scooping up Mona has he yells, and as Fox’s mask ignites, Joker rushes past. They recognize the patterns, figured out how these smaller Shadows work. They’re predictable. But a hit on a defenseless target is devastating regardless.

Queen gets the message. She moves faster, glowing, and when she dashes forward, Johanna is right behind her. It’s almost elegant, Queen’s brute force as she mounts her Persona and tires screech across the tile of the vaults. The burst is bright, nuclear in its intensity. Queen lets out a huff as she rights herself, watching the black remains of the Prankster Leader fizzle and dissolve.

Blue embers scatter behind Queen when Johanna disperses and her steel mask reappears.

“She’s a force, huh?” Joker says from Fox’s side, and Fox turns to him. Mona is still cradled in his arms, snoring softly. Joker keeps an eye on Queen but Fox can’t pull his eyes away just yet. There’s a spark in his eyes, behind that white mask. Mischievous and has his eyes always had such a tint of red? Fox finally looks over to their new teammate.

“She truly is.”

Joker smiles at him, lopsided, before he turns behind them toward the long hallway they had come from. Further down, two figures crouch in the shadows just at the corner behind an abandoned cart. Joker raises his hand and motions for the two to join them.

When the others finally reach them, Joker is carefully handing over a snoring Mona to Skull, who fumbles before he gets a proper hold. Joker chuckles.

“Keep an eye on him until he snaps out of it. Panther, I want you with us for the rest of this push.” Panther nods enthusiastically when Joker addresses her. He turns to the rest of the group. “We’ll keep going until we find the next set of codes and get the next segment open. Alright?” He waits for an agreement. Everyone nods.

The next push goes as smoothly as the first. Avoiding the guards and cameras starts to feel like child’s play. What sort of bank keeps the circuitry to its security out and exposed like this? But Fox supposes that’s the simplicity of the Metaverse. Logic has little meaning here.

The next fight is unavoidable. The guards are simply in their way at this point and brute forcing their way past is the only option left.

Joker really does seem to dance around the Shadow, gliding through the air as he makes the jump to the guard's broad shoulders. There’s not just grace to his movements, either. It takes force, a great deal of power to rip those masks off, if their own is anything to to go by. Yet Joker pries it off smoothly, so efficiently, it’s a wonder the Shadow doesn’t fall sooner.

He lands almost silently, crouched down low as the team watches the Shadow collapse in on itself. Its true form emerges from the melting facade, and the horned figure towers over the group, its deep red eyes lock onto Joker. The air suddenly feels charged and Fox lowers himself in a deep stance, reading himself.

“Dance, Carmen!”

Fire snaps and crackles around the Defeated Avenger and it staggers back at Panther’s relentless assault. Blue flames and embers dance around her and Carmen, and it seems so natural for her. The Shadow finds its footing once Carmen disperses and it roars. Lightning cracks down violently around them, aimless in its direction, but the team is forced to scatter, trying to avoid the barrage.

Queen stumbles when one of the bolts strike, and she hits the ground hard. Panther is already responding, Carmen’s flowing dress flutters through the air and Queen gasps at the sensation of skin quickly knitting itself back together forcefully. She still isn’t used to such an unnatural sensation, though it is still something Fox is adjusting to himself.

The air crackles again as the Shadow readies another assault, the static charged air the only clear warning. With a deep breath, Fox dashes forward, right hand over the hilt of his blade. As his mask ignites into blue embers, Goemon is right at his side. With the added strength behind him, his strike staggers the Shadow.

Joker follows it up as his own mask burns, eyes wide and burning with focused rage. His smile is splitting.

“Leanan Sidhe!”

A woman appears overhead, sharp eyes piercing, and she reaches out as Joker seems to pry at the air. The Defeated Avenger jolts, staggering as it tries to right itself, but bends unnaturally against the force tearing at it. Joker’s grin widens as he seems to keep pulling until something finally gives, his arms flinging out to his side and the Shadow is ripped apart, split and dissolving into the air.

The rest of the team watches the elegant woman disperse and Fox stares as Joker rights himself, standing tall. With a slow breath, Joker looks to the rest of his team.

There is such power hidden behind that elegant frame. A burning intensity that is so often overshadowed by his ordinary and everyday casual facade. Is it a facade? Truly, there is so much more to Akira that Yusuke wants to examine and expose. He does not want to share, though.

That ferocity, that pure intensity of ripping a foe apart with his bare hands?

Fox feels so incredibly lucky to be allowed to witness such a candid display. Yusuke wants to capture the youthful force that is Akira.

 

_ June 27, Monday; Evening _

Despite his bold words earlier, Yusuke can not quite shake what that man from the museum had said about his piece. He had poured so much of himself into that work, had been so sure he had captured the essence of the human heart so clearly. His pencil scratches against his sketchpad a little rougher than he intends. He notes the way Akira shifts his eyes towards him for a moment. Yusuke is grateful he keeps his simple pose.

Akira was generous enough to offer Yusuke a meal before he headed home for the day. And Yusuke was not going to pass up the offer of a free, warm meal. The thought of it being rude to accept so readily never crossed his mind.

The rain is still pattering against the windows, a brief rumble of thunder gently rattles the dark attic. As Yusuke attempts to capture the gentle curve of Akira’s jawline for the light study, he contemplates where he went wrong. The subject matter surely can’t be the issue. Although maybe a tad overdone, exposing the true nature of the heart would send such a statement.

Yusuke could argue some of the best works of art are of simple subject, but depicted in such honest and open ways. What was the issue with him, then?

He sighs and looks over the pencil sketch he has been staring at for longer than he should. His depiction of Akira is not quite right—the jaw comes off as far too soft, or much too angled, and that would normally be a challenge he would gladly welcome. He had become too preoccupied with the minute details, he had forgotten the point of the light study in the first place.

When it becomes clear that Yusuke will not be continuing his study anytime soon, Akira finally turns to him after a moment of hesitation.

“Need a break?” he asks softly, glancing at the windows where they had pinned some sheets to force more dramatic lighting. It had been Akira’s idea as well. “Or... should I try something different?”

Yusuke glances up from his seat on the bed and pauses to look over Akira’s features once again. Somehow, it feels different than for the study, but he feels too frustrated to think on it anymore than that. Akira is being exceedingly patient with him. Yusuke isn’t sure he deserves it.

“No, you are far from the problem,” Yusuke finally says as he carefully closes his sketchbook. Akira is still sitting at his work bench. A small, stout vase of Pansies sits just to the side of some work tools and thin scraps of metal. An interesting still life it would make, but he simply can’t focus tonight.

Akira adjusts how one of the small, blue flowers is sitting in it.

It’s just like what happened with Ann. The models themselves are perfect, Akira especially a fountain of inspiration in unfathomable ways, but it is his own frustrations and limitations that make his hands hesitate.

Yusuke wants to know what it is he’s missing in his understanding. He’s seen first hand the depravity of the heart. Why can he not capture that?

He watches Akira adjust the small, delicate blue flowers some more. He had mentioned earlier he had brought them home from work since they weren’t selling. A shame to have them thrown away.

Thunder rumbles outside again, distant and the rain patters against the roof. With the lights already off and the dingy light from the half covered windows, Akira is monochrome against the deep blue of the Pansies. Yusuke raises his hands and frames him between his fingers. Akira is not drowned out by the bit of color against cold gray. The simplicity is beautiful.

Yusuke lowers his hands with a sigh.

“I’m afraid my mind is simply too clouded for me to properly focus today.”

Akira hums an acknowledgment and finally turns to face Yusuke. The smile he offers is soft and oh, so genuine. Yusuke finds his breath catching all over again.

“It’s been a rough day. We can try again another time when you’re free.”

Somehow Yusuke is thrown by Akira’s offer. Akira has shown how patient he is, how kind of a heart he has to spend his time on Yusuke’s eccentricities. These are problems that do not directly affect the team and yet Akira wants to help. He keeps offering his time,  _ himself _ to Yusuke and Yusuke cannot grasp the level of gratitude he feels.

Akira is beautiful in so many ways.

“You truly are astonishing.”

Akira’s smile drops, but the surprised look on his face is not worrying. His cheeks color a light pink, like the Sakura that have long since past for the year. Yusuke smiles to himself. Akira clears his throat, and rubs the back of his neck. The rain outside has lightened.

“Do you want a coffee before you head out?” Akira offers as he stands. The color is gone again, but that sincere smile is back. Yusuke supposes it will do more than enough.

“I would like that, thank you.”

 

It’s when he returns to his dorm that the possibility hits him. Yusuke sets his school bag and sketchpad down onto his desk and he pauses as he looks down at the closed book. Gently, he opens to the pages he had been working on and lets his eyes linger on the drawings and sketches of Akira.

It was simply supposed to be a study on dramatic lighting, but looking down at them now, it’s clear that was far from what he was focusing on.

He’ll have to try again another time.

And Akira will let him.

There’s a stirring in his heart and his breath feels stolen—fitting for a thief—as he thinks how kind and patient and willing Akira is. He’s eager to help and Yusuke wants to keep finding that inspiration Akira so readily gives.

He wants more than that.

Yusuke feels his chest ache and tighten at the thought. It’s almost scary to think now that he realized it. Akira is such a dear friend, he’s already brought such profound change to his world despite all the effort Yusuke had put into pushing them all away. Now, all he wants is to simply spend time with him.

His head begins to spin and he realizes he cannot breathe. It feels deep, starting in the center of his chest, an ache he has never felt before and he finally chokes for a breath. It feels impossible, and he staggers to the bathroom, hunched over the small sink as he coughs and gasps for air.

Something shifts in his chest and he can feel it settle just at the back of his throat. With trembling hands, Yusuke hesitantly reaches his fingers into his mouth. When his fingertips brush against a solid mass, he flinches and gags against the obstruction.

His heart is racing, pounding against his rib cage and his vision begins to tunnel. With a useless gasp, Yusuke tries once more and digs his middle and forefinger as far into his mouth as he can reach. It’s a violent cough that shakes his whole body that finally dislodges the mass and he spits it up into his sink.

Yusuke gasps, panting for deprived air and he can’t still his shaking hands as he leans heavily against the counter. He can barely keep himself up, but he stands and looks down into the basin, morbidly curious.

A white petal sticks to the side of the sink, fairly large and crumpled from the harsh exit. He doesn’t recognize it. Yusuke stares into the sink as one hand rubs at his sore, aching chest. It feels full and exceedingly empty.

How odd.

He doesn’t let himself mull over on the connotations, a little afraid of what had just happened. He discards the petal and any lingering thoughts on the matter.

 

_ July 2, Saturday; After School _

There truly is something special about Akira.

Yusuke wishes he could better grasp just what it is about him that makes him so uniquely and utterly Akira, but he doubts he ever will. Though that is a shame, it does not deter him. It’s a source of motivation to better himself and his grasp on his own talents and understanding of others.

His misunderstanding today at the park would be a good lesson to learn from. His decisions and conclusions need to be less arbitrary. Yusuke sees what he wants to see and only now does he realize what a hindrance that could be the long run.

His strokes on the canvas before him lack confidence. As much as it frustrates him, Yusuke at least knows to push through. Much like his bustling thoughts. It feels almost odd to be so distracted as he is tonight, normally able to dedicate any and all attention to his craft. Tonight is different and Yusuke knows exactly why.

His thoughts are too muddled down, torn between what he knows and what he’s realizing. He sighs and sits back on his stool as he looks over the large canvas. It’s rich, dark hues pull him into it.

Akira is a man of few words. Yusuke has learned to listen carefully to anything he says. It’s always considerate, just what Yusuke needs to hear when he needs to hear it. He won’t lie, the thought that Akira only says what he wants to hear to gain his approval has crossed his mind. But actions speak louder and Akira has offered more than just petty words and has done more than enough for Yusuke to know he means everything. Akira is not simply stringing Yusuke along.

A gentle warmth blooms in his chest at the mere thought. Yusuke has already come to terms with the idea that he simply wants to spend more time around Akira. Find that wealth of inspiration that so freely flows from him to Yusuke’s heart that he immediately needs to put to paper. No, the thought that makes his heart jump is that Akira clearly has no qualms with spending more time with him.

There is so much else Akira could be doing. So much else that would benefit the group as a whole and yet Akira will still spend a rainy day down in the station watching the faceless crowds go by with him.

Yusuke is staring at his canvas, but he is no longer looking at the painting. His chest starts to ache and Yusuke can’t bring himself to stop thinking of what a peculiar sensation it is. Now that the rush is gone, he can realize it’s so similar to how he felt on that small boat with Akira. As he recalls, Akira may have looked a touch embarrassed, but his words hadn’t sounded anything of the sort. They were sincere.

“Love comes in many forms,” he had said. It seems an obvious statement, and yet Yusuke’s lack of understanding had been put so clearly on display. What a confounding and consuming concept “love” is. But Akira was most certainly not wrong.

There are so many forms love can take. The familial bond between brother and sister. The maternal affection between mother and child. The special connection between two friends.

There truly are so many facets to love. It’s a broad emotion and yet none of them are inherently more correct than another.

After everything they have done for him, Yusuke knows he loves his friends. He knows he would do anything for them.

Yusuke would do anything for Akira if only he ask.

His chest pangs all over again. It has become a common occurrence the past few days. But it’s been manageable. The worst thing about it is how empty and void his chest feels and yet it feels as though it’s piling up.

Yusuke reasons he should be more concerned over the strange condition he has developed and yet all he can think about is Akira rowing them both out to the middle of the lake and gently guiding him to a better understanding.

Yusuke feels his breath stop completely and he realizes he truly would do anything if Akira asked. He wants to. And he wants Akira to look at him even a fraction of the way Yusuke sees him.

It bubbles up from the pit of his stomach, nauseating like the train rides that take just a moment too long and Yusuke stumbles for the small waste bin he started keeping by his futon. They scrape against his throat as he feels it push itself up and out from his very core. When he finally is able to cough, the first petal haphazardly plops into the bin, only to be followed by a number more.

It hurts. It always hurts and any breath Yusuke is able to catch is painful and shallow against the build up in his chest.

A metallic tang in the back of his throat sets off a twinge of alarm and Yusuke barely has time to realize what his stomach is doing and it churns in the worst of ways. He vomits into the bin and gasps at the sudden lurch. One last choking cough exudes the last of the petals, and Yusuke finds himself glad he had the foresight to put a plastic bag in the bin before hand.

As his lungs and stomach seem to calm, Yusuke sits back and wipes the back of his hand against his mouth. He closes his eyes and breathes.

What an empty feeling his is always left with after these odd episodes. His clean hand rubs at his sore chest as he stares at the offending bin. He hasn’t thrown them up before. This new development is concerning.

It is not lost on him the pattern that that appeared. That the pain in his chest only arises when he thinks of Akira and his gentle smile or kind gestures. How such a condition could even be possible in the first place is curious. A passing thought crossed his mind that it could possibly be due to some sort of change in the Metaverse—from a change in his cognition of their leader. But it seems unlikely. Changes in the Metaverse do not constitute such a literal manifestation in the real world.

His hand moves from his chest up to his neck, gently rubbing his still tender throat. Yusuke is not sure how to proceed. It’s doubtful anyone would believe him if he opened up about his condition.

He can't trouble the others. Not with how much he already owes Akira.

Yusuke’s eyes drift back down to the bin, filled with soft white, wavy petals. How likely would it be that someone, somewhere could understand what he’s experiencing? Choking on flowers that bloom inside yourself? It sounds like nothing more than a fairy tale.

But what an interesting angle to look at it. People love the bizarre and yet are so quick to dismiss it as nothing more than urban legend.

It’s a whim that he makes himself crawl back to his desk and pull out his phone. The search terms are vague at first, broad prodding to see if anything sticks. The first few searches pull up nothing solid or even a hint of where to else to go. Some list actual illnesses with symptoms somewhat similar, but are ultimately dismissed.

A forum site catches his attention, though for the most part, it’s rubbish. A stockpile of rumors and word of mouth that run rampant in almost any school or community.

One thread stands out to him and as he reads over the posts, they’re less about a scary story heard halfway across a school hallway and more of a first-hand experience. It’s easy to lie on the internet, yet there is something genuine about the author’s words of heartache and Kuroyuri.

The author speaks of falling in love with a dear friend, how this person made the author’s heart sing and ache all at once. How the first petal fell from their mouth after the revelation of how dear and important this friend had grown.

What a peculiar thing, the author says, feeling their own lungs fill up and their chest achingly empty as their words of affection built up along with the dark petals.

A time came where the author tells of the attempt to tell their dear friend the truth. How their heart spilled over each night. For a brief moment, the author says that all the pain they had felt over the months had vanished. The empty weight in their chest had lifted and they could finally breathe again. It was euphoric.

And then the dear friend declined.

The author says they had thrown up enough flowers that night to fill a small shop. Blood had started to taint the delicate petals.

Yusuke puts his phone down after that. His hand presses to his mouth, and his chest feels empty for a new reason.

He swallows down the bile rising in the back of his throat and turns to look back to the trash bin by his futon. There is no point thinking on it anymore tonight. Yusuke stands and pulls the bag from the bin and ties it off in a tight knot as he goes to throw it away. Yusuke ignores the empty ache growing in his chest all over again.

 

_ July 7, Thursday; Evening _

The dorms had grown too noisy for Yusuke to focus on his own studies. With exams hanging overhead most students were feeling the pressure and once evening hit, they found whatever ways they could to relax. To his chagrin, that usually entailed rambunctious laughing fits of the group of friends who had decided the shared living area was theirs. No one else seemed as bothered by it, and Yusuke tires to put up with it.

It was too much today. It grated on his nerves more than usual, and he simply could not handle it any longer. It wasn’t as though he could focus on his studies anyway.

A couple was chatting loudly as they walked past across the crowded station. Such a mundane sight, yet Yusuke settled in more as he leaned against the wall. This wasn’t a time for speculation, but simple observation. Watch the people go by, observe how they move, intertwine in the crowd. How each individual holds themselves apart from one another or in some attempt to blend in.

Yusuke has been trying to keep his mind elsewhere all day. If he doesn’t think on it, then he can ignore the weight in his chest. The crowd’s chatter seems loud today.

“I’ve heard of people coughing up a lung, but  _ that’s _ just a stretch, even for you,” a girl across the way says to her friend. Their uniforms are not one he is immediately familiar with.

“I swear that’s what she said! And you know Yamada isn’t one to exaggerate.”

“Yeah, but flowers? That sounds like something you’d tell a middle schooler with a crush to scare them into opening up about it.”

The girls are already gone, lost in the crowd. He feels anxious and he leans back against the wall and stares down the direction those girls had gone.

So it doesn’t seem like such a far-fetched thing. Or in the very least, there are a few people willing to give it some time of day. He hadn’t wanted to think about it, but Yusuke recalls the forum site from the other day.

His morbid curiosity gets the better of him as he pulls out his phone. He hadn’t properly closed the tab in his web browser for that particular thread and scrolls through it all over again.

The most recent post was from over a month ago. The author says they had quit their job due to illness. The fits hadn’t stopped and as far as they could tell, they wouldn’t. They wanted to rip their own heart out at one point; make the pain go away and make the overflow of petals stop.

Yusuke has a sinking suspicion that this forum will not be updated again. A chill runs down his spine as his stomach churns.

“Yusuke?”

Yusuke quickly looks up from his phone to see a familiar mop of frizzy hair approach. Closing his phone, Yusuke smiles as Akira finally reaches his little corner of the station.

“I was not expecting to see you here,” Yusuke comments, noting the green apron Akira is still wearing and the small bouquet of yellow Camellias and Lily of the Valley he is carefully holding. It is not the first time Akira would bring home flowers from work that were not selling or close to discard.

“My shift just ended,” Akira says. “I was just heading home, but I don’t necessarily have to go just yet.”

Yusuke chuckles. Akira is very transparent when he wants to be. His chest aches all over again, but he fights it down. He can keep it under control.

“You must have a wealth of free time if you’d wish to spend it here with me.”

Akira shrugs, half a smile tugging playfully at his mouth.

Yusuke has no choice but to relent. It’s so easy.

“Very well. I was just watching the people go by in the crowd, if you would care to join.”

As Akira settles himself next to Yusuke against the wall, Yusuke has to fight down the painful build up in his throat. He asks about the flowers, and Akira seems to perk up a little, freely talking of them with earnest enthusiasm. Akira lets him do some quick studies in the small sketchbook Yusuke keeps with him. He notes how gentle his hands cradle the bundle of flowers.

The pain is worth these quiet moments. He does not want to ruin this.

 

_ July 14, Thursday; After School _

Yusuke wonders if this has anything to do with the off-hand comment he had made the other day in Mementos. Charity is something he has a hard time accepting, but he accepts Ryuji’s offer of food almost immediately. It would be a waste not to.

Ryuji seems to be acting as though Yusuke has never been to this ramen bar before. The vibrant energy he exudes as he goes over the specials and his usual order is rather infectious, and Yusuke lets him talk. He has been here before in the past, but it has been quite some time. He finds himself excited despite the unnecessary hype of the trip.

“Man, I swear this place has some of the best pork bowls in the whole area for the price.” Ryuji smirks as they take their seats, and Yusuke can appreciate a good deal.

“Are you sure it’s wise to be spending your time like this? Aren’t your exams going on this week?” Yusuke asks over the rim of his glass of water, side eyeing Ryuji. Ryuji just moans and slumps back in his stool.

“Dude, don’t remind me. I came here to forget all that.”

Yusuke bites back a chuckle. Their food arrives and Ryuji wastes no time digging into his own bowl eagerly.

“Weren’t your exams like last week or something?” Ryuji asks though a mouthful of noodles. Yusuke waits to finish his bite before acknowledging him.

“They were,” he says, going right back to eating. Although he has been to this restaurant before, it’s better than he remembers.

“Well? How you think ya did?”

For claiming to want to distract himself from the exams, Ryuji seems rather insistent on talking about them. Though, Yusuke will admit, the mundane topic of exams is a nice change of pace. It’s so undeniably normal.

“I feel I did adequately enough.” Ryuji seems to deflate at that response. Yusuke continues to pick at his food. “Although tests are not particularly my strong suit, it is mostly recall.”

Ryuji just bemoans more, slumping forward over his bowl.

“Damn. I don’t know how all of you can do it. I mean, with everything goin’ on, what’s the point in studying when we’ve got bigger problems?”

“You know very well why,” Yusuke retorts. Although he can understand Ryuji's stance on the issue, keeping up their guise is more important than Ryuji seems to realize. The crowded restaurant bustles around them and Ryuji doesn’t seem to notice.

Ryuji just sighs again and rolls his head back.

“Yeah, yeah...” he concedes, and Yusuke thinks it’s the end of it. He goes back to enjoying his ramen.

“But man, I’m kinda jealous of people like Makoto and Akira.” Ryuji starts yet again, mouth full. Yusuke just wants to eat. “Did you know Akira scored in the top ten in the last exams? Dude’s crazy. What with our thieving business and bein’ the leader and all, the guy still manages to find time to seriously study. Doesn’t he even have a part-time job, too? I get burnt out just thinkin’ about it.”

That isn’t even all of it, Yusuke thinks, preoccupying his mouth with steaming noodles. Akira dedicates most of his free time towards the group in some fashion, whether making sure their equipment is still pristine and up to par or taking care of a friend when they may need an ear or shoulder. Akira spends his time working or studying or outfitting the team and yet Yusuke recalls the gentle contentment in his eyes as they stood side-by-side down in the station, simply watching the crowds go by in companionable silence last week.

Yusuke coughs abruptly and quickly covers his mouth.

He can feel Ryuji’s eyes on him and Yusuke tires to fight down the urge to cough up the building pressure in his chest. A cold panic and dread washes over him. He’s never had an episode in front of someone, and to have Ryuji of all people see him like this only heightens the anxiety.

“Hey man, you okay?” Ryuji hastily asks once he seems to realize Yusuke hadn’t just swallowed wrong, but is honestly choking. His concerned eyes digging into him make Yusuke panic more, and he can’t say anything. His head is already starting to spin and he can taste the petals already spilling into his mouth.

The restroom.

He needs to get to the restroom.

Yusuke coughs out a choked gasp and winces against the scraping against his throat. He quickly staggers to his feet, stool scraping against the floor as it nearly topples over. He can hear Ryuji call after him as he scrambles towards the restroom, bumping into the other patrons without a pardon. He doesn’t even notice the amount of eyes on him as he bursts into the restroom.

His mouth is full, as is his sore throat, and he rushes over to the first thing he finds. His hands press against the stall walls as he finally lets himself cough up the build up of white petals into the toilet. One of his trembling hands grips tight to his shirt, over his heart where it aches the most, and he keeps coughing, petals spewing from his mouth. As he gasps for a needed breath, Yusuke wonders of they have gotten any bigger.

A churning in his stomach sets off his gag reflex and he suddenly finds himself fighting off the urge to vomit.

It subsides, but another violet coughing fit overtakes him. His hands shake as they fist tight, and he just stares down at the damp petals piled up in the bowl.

This has grown to be such an inconvenience. Yusuke’s brow furrows and now he’ll have to try to explain what happened to Ryuji. He’s the last person he had wanted to find out about his condition, and Yusuke sighs. If Ryuji cannot keep quiet about their thievery, then sure this secret would spread like wildfire from him.

Defeated, Yusuke washes his face and hands in the sink. When he looks up into the mirror, he looks sickly pale. His throat still feels irritated and his breath still staggers as it fights for a normal rhythm against the need to clear the airways yet again.

Yusuke pulls his eyes away from the mirror and rubs at his throat. What an inconvenience.

The clatter of plates and bowls against the murmur of the crowd is grounding enough as Yusuke finally leaves the restroom. As he finds Ryuji again, his friend finally notices him and just stares. Yusuke isn’t sure what to make of the face Ryuji is making at him and just stares back, confused. It only seems to agitate him as Ryuji sits up straighter in his seat.

“Are you alright?” He sounds a little desperate, and Yusuke supposes that’s a fair reaction.

“I’m fine. I simply—”

“Like hell you are!” Ryuji’s hand slams down onto the counter, rattling his bowl and glass as he hisses. The couple beside him quickly look over at the commotion. Ryuji doesn’t even notice as he keeps staring up at Yusuke. It takes a moment for Yusuke to understand why Ryuji is so worked up over this. Anyone would be concerned if their friend started to suddenly choke on their food, but Ryuji seems particularly pushy about it. 

And then a thought hits him. A chill runs down his spine and Yusuke looks down to the counter where he had been eating. Next to his bowl lies a couple of his petals scattered about. Yusuke’s stomach bottoms out and Ryuji’s hard stare is heavy. There’s no hiding this anymore and Yusuke steels himself, eyes pointed and cold as he looks down to Ryuji.

“We’re leaving,” Yusuke says simply as he bends over to tidy up the counter, taking a napkin to pick up the offending petals to throw away later. Ryuji quickly stands from his seat.

“No man, I wanna know what the hell’s—”

“Ryuji.” Yusuke shoots him a hard, icy stare and he seems to get the idea. This is not the ideal place to talk. Ryuji relents, though his face is still stern as he looks at Yusuke. Despite the rough edges, Yusuke can still feel the concern from him. He's not sure if he takes comfort from it.

As they leave, Ryuji pays for their meals and Yusuke waits outside, past the line of people. He’s not prepared to explain what’s been going on, though he knows this is not something he can brush off after what Ryuji had seen. How to go about explaining this while also convincing him to stay quiet will be difficult. Ryuji finally comes out of the restaurant and Yusuke decides simple honesty would be best. There is no point in anything else.

Ryuji’s hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his school pants, and his thin brows furrow just as deep. He motions down the street with his head and they set off towards the station.

“So, did you start eatin’ flowers or some shit?” Ryuji’s voice is heavily tinged with impatience and Yusuke fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Because I’m pretty sure  _ that _ shit ain’t normal!” His voice is raising and Yusuke keeps his eyes forward down the street through the heavy crowd. They pass by quick enough.

“Don’t be absurd.”

“ _ I’m _ being absurd!? I’m not the one pukin’ up god damn plants!”

Yusuke isn’t used to Ryuji’s aggressive brand of concern. His hand rubs at his chest and it feels so painfully full, fit to burst all over again. He’ll keep it down. Once he’s back at the dorms, then he’ll deal with it like he’s grown used to.

“Why haven’t you told anyone?” Ryuji’s voice is considerably softer.

“If I told you beforehand that I had developed some illness that caused me to regurgitate flower petals, would you have believed me?”

Ryuji concedes and looks away.

“I guess not...”

They walk in silence a few more blocks before Ryuji looks back to Yusuke. He seems a little lost for words, but is still fighting to find them.

“Still, man... How long’s this been goin’ on for?”

Yusuke still remembers the first night. How soft the curve of Akira’s jawline had looked in that muted lighting of that rainy day.

His breath hitches and he covers his mouth with a spare napkin and coughs into it. Bent over on the sidewalk, Ryuji staring with wide-eyed concern, Yusuke spits a large wavy petal into the napkin. His eyes sting.

“Two weeks or so,” Yusuke says after he catches his breath. Ryuji looks affronted.

“You’ve been keepin’ this to yourself for that long!?”

“I didn’t want to burden any of you.”

“Dude—” Ryuji cuts himself off, clearly exasperated. He starts to dig out his phone. “If somethin’s wrong with you, no one’s gonna think you’re a burden. We gotta tell Akira about this. It’s gotta be serious.”

“No—”

Yusuke grabs onto Ryuji’s hand before he can think, and they stare at each other in the middle of the walkway. Yusuke’s heart is racing, pounding in his chest and Ryuji is just staring at him, confused.

“Why the hell not?”

Yusuke doesn’t know how to respond. Slowly, he lets go of Ryuji’s phone and he can’t bring himself to make eye contact.

“Akira simply cannot be allowed to know of this.”

“That makes no sense. Why not?”

Yusuke bites his lip and a pained expression passes over his eyes. He takes a deep breath.

“I... have my suspicions that he is the cause of all this,” Yusuke admits. He doesn’t see the way Ryuji’s eyes soften.

“Whaddya mean?”

“These fits. They’ve grown more frequent over the past few days. But they start, or are at their worst, when my mind is occupied by nothing but thoughts of him.” A sharp pain shoots through his chest. He winces as he pushes it down.

“Wait, so... what are you sayin’?” Ryuji slips his phone back into his pocket. “Are you like... crushin’ on him, or somethin’?”

The sharp pain shoots through Yusuke’s very heart and it takes everything he has to keep his breath at a semblance of steady. His eyes screw shut and his hand grips his purple shirt tight over his heart.

“I... am hesitant to admit that,” Yusuke finally starts, voice hushed as he pushes through. “I am concerned about the legitimacy of these feelings. Are they truly genuine? Or is the great debt I owe Akira and the gratitude I feel clouding my judgment? I am... unsure which is more terrifying.”

Yusuke feels as though his chest has opened up and he’s the one pulling his own ribs apart to expose his heart. Ryuji stands quiet and, despite his vulnerable state, has not taken advantaged of such openness.

Ryuji takes a breath.

“I think I get where you’re comin’ from... But man. I still think you should tell him.”

Yusuke notes that the other does not make a move for his phone again. Ryuji seems he will wait for his permission beforehand, and Yusuke feels just a margin of relief. He still cannot bring himself to look at the other just yet.

“I can’t do that. Not yet.” Yusuke takes a deep breath—it shudders, but he still holds himself tall. “I implore you,” Yusuke finally looks Ryuji in the eye. He holds the gaze firm. “Do not tell any of the others.”

Ryuji stares before shaking his head and looking down the crowded street.

“Fine. Okay.” He looks back to Yusuke pointedly. “But if you end up chokin’ on your own feelings, it ain’t my fault.”

Yusuke’s eyes soften and he smiles. The relief is a huge comfort.

“Thank you.”

 

_ July 26, Tuesday; Evening _

Yusuke has never been more relieved to hear the call before in his life. He had been trying to be discrete the whole infiltration, refusing to let such an annoyance be a hindrance. But it’s hard to fight when your chest is fit to burst.

Ryuji has turned out to be more of a blessing than Yusuke originally thought he would be. He’d been particularly insistent of Akira having him on vanguard, which gave Yusuke time to concentrate on his breathing. He suspected he had been doing it on purpose.

But when Joker makes the call after another door has been opened and he takes a moment to catch his own breath to head home for the day, Yusuke is nearly lightheaded from relief and the shallow breaths he’s only been able to make. Everyone stumbles out of the alley in Yongen, and part for the day. Yusuke just barely notices Ann tug on Akira’s arm out of the corner of his eye, pulling him towards the direction of the cafe before Ryuji is practically dragging him to another back alley. Yusuke hadn’t noticed how badly his vision had tunneled or how hot his lungs burned until he finds himself panting over a trash can.

The coughing fit is violent, raking his whole body; the retching more so. Yusuke grips the rim of the trashcan until his knuckles turn white as the mouthful of petals he’s been trying to keep under control bust out. The nauseous ache in his stomach keeps churning and his throat burns against the foreign objects forcing their way out of him.

After the first wave passes, Yusuke finally notices Ryuji’s hands at his back, hesitantly rubbing up and down his spine. He hears Ryuji curse, but he can’t focus on any more than that. His head is spinning too much. His lungs fill up all over again and Yusuke winces against the involuntary drop of his stomach. A sharp pain pierces through his chest, and panic surges. He really can’t breath this time.

“Shit, dude,” Ryuji panics. His hands hover, unsure what to do. Yusuke feels his body seize against the obstruction and as he fights down the instinct to panic, his stomach protests. Through gagging coughs, Yusuke vomits into the trashcan again. The petals lingering in his mouth taste metallic.

He finally has a moment to breathe and looking into the trash can, filled with too many milky white petals, Yusuke sees it. A full, intact blossom. It takes him a moment of just staring at it in awe to realize he finally recognizes what it is. The woman at the flower shop Akira sometimes works at sells Gardenias. Yusuke’s breath shudders before it hitches again. There’s something else lingering in the back of his throat still, scraping it raw all over again.

Ryuji watches with disgusted concern as Yusuke reaches trembling fingers into his mouth. It feels reminiscent and Yusuke tries not to think about it. One last cough and Yusuke manages to pull the small piece of stem that had lodged itself in the back of his mouth. This is new.

This is truly becoming quite the annoyance. All he can do is lean over the trashcan more and focus on his breathing. He lets the small piece of stem plop in with the rest of the discard. It’s the first real breath since they first went into the Metaverse earlier.

“What the eff, man.”

Ryuji was still here. Yusuke had forgotten. It feels as though there’s still some bile and saliva on his mouth and he doesn’t want Ryuji to see him in such a state, but Ryuji has been keeping his word better than he thought. Yusuke wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What’s going on out here?”

They both freeze at the sudden, unfamiliar voice and look down the alley. Ryuji immediately steps between Yusuke and the woman, trying to hide any evidence, but she looks unperturbed. Ryuji doesn’t budge, either.

“My friend here wasn’t feelin’ too good,” Ryuji says defensively. “Gets motion sick real easy.” Yusuke notes the woman’s white coat over the dark dress and red belt, and he knows they’ve already lost.

“Uh-huh...” She’s completely unconvinced. Yusuke swallows down the lump in his throat. It tastes like those damn petals.

As he straightens, wobbly on his feet, Yusuke finally sees the woman’s dark eyes. They’re looking down towards their feet, one brow raised in suspicion. Suddenly, Yusuke feels sick for an entirely different reason.

Despite the cold and indifferent front the woman looks to put up, her eyes are sharp as he looks back up to Yusuke.

“Look,” the woman starts, “Your friend here just had quite the fit in a back alley. Right outside my clinic.” She motions behind her to the bright sign right by the steps to the clinic in question. “Why don’t you let me take a look.” Ryuji puffs up with defensive defiance when Yusuke hesitates.

The woman just sighs. She points down to the base of the trashcan by their feet where stray petals had fallen.

“Don’t play games with me.”

There was little room for argument.

After some coaxing and vague threats, the woman, who had eventually introduced herself as Takemi, ushers Yusuke into the exam room while leaving Ryuji to anxiously wait in the lobby. The door locks behind her, and Takemi turns her sharp gaze on Yusuke again. It’s unsettling, but Yusuke does not let himself be shaken by it.

“Take a seat,” she instructs as she walks by her cluttered desk and digs out a stethoscope. Yusuke sits on the bench on the other side of the room. A hand rubs at his arm as we waits for the doctor to finish a few notes on a clipboard. He fights down the sense of unease as he can’t decide how honest he should be. It seems foolish to lie at this point. The doctor puts the stethoscope to her ears.

“Take deep breaths if you can until I tell you to stop.”

Yusuke’s chest aches as he breathes, but he fights off the spasms and Takemi reaches under his shirt and presses the end of the stethoscope on his back near his shoulder blade. She stills until his next breath, moving across his back, and then lower. Takemi pulls away after the fourth breath.

“Alright, you can stop.” She goes back to her clipboard momentarily, before pulling a tongue compressor from her supply station. She pulls a small light from her coat pocket as she approaches. “Open up.”

Takemi hums in consideration as she examines the damage Yusuke is sure is present in his throat. She sits back on her stool and looks over Yusuke with a particular look. He isn’t sure what to make of it and finds himself ill at ease. Her stare is intense.

“How long has this been going on?” Takemi finally asks. Her face has not changed.

Yusuke doesn’t respond, carefully watching the woman as she looks at him. There’s no point in hiding this, not with such blatant evidence lying in a bowl on the desk. But there is something odd about the doctor’s behavior. It has Yusuke on edge.

“You aren’t worried this is all some elaborate prank?”

“No,” she says frankly.

“It hardly seems believable,” Yusuke retorts. This visit is a long time coming, but he can’t bring himself to trust her just yet.

Her stare persists until she finally sighs. She turns and looks at the Gardenia on the desk. The harsh look in her eyes softens. Yusuke’s unease melts as well.

“You’re right,” Takemi finally says. She looks back to Yusuke, though her gaze lacks the previous intensity. “Under normal circumstances, I’d have little reason to believe you. Coughing up flowers? It’s just an urban legend.” Her tone makes Yusuke’s spine chill for some reason. She leans forward on her stool, a slight crease to her brow. “But I’ll be as honest as I can. I’ve seen this before. Once.”

His breath hitches, and for the first time in weeks it’s not from the flowers. Takemi seems to notice. She sighs.

“I still don’t really understand this condition. The other case only showed up a couple months ago. But I believe you. So I’m going to ask again: how long has this been going on?” There’s genuine concern in her tough tone and Yusuke no longer feels any need or desire to fight. He considers the time that has passed.

“One month.”

Takemi sits back. Her eyes do not soften.

“And you haven’t received any form of help until now, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“No prior history of asthma or pneumonia? Anything of that sort?”

“No.”

She nods, and stands from her stool to shuffle through a cabinet.

“I won’t lie, just from the sound of your lungs, the infection seems deep, though I can’t properly determine how far along it is unless we get x-rays.” She looks over a pill bottle, then decides against it. “Though I have a feeling that’s out of the question.” Takemi glances back to Yusuke as she takes another bottle. Yusuke can’t bring himself to meet her eyes any longer. Such a thorough examination would be well beyond what he could afford. This alone will more than likely set him back.

Somehow, her silence is a comfort. There doesn’t feel to be any expectations on his part.

Takemi writes a note on the label of the bottle before handing it over. Yusuke takes it with some reservations. There’s sympathy in her dark eyes.

“I’m not going to lie to you and I’m going to be blunt: there isn’t anything I can really do.”

The admittance is exactly what Yusuke expected yet he still finds himself feeling as though he is in free fall. His hands wrap around the bottle tighter.

“All I can do is offer to help ease any pain you may have. This has been helping my other patient, but despite anything I do the infection is still growing. There’s nothing else I can do here until I can learn more about this. I’m sorry.”

Yusuke opens his hands and looks down at the orange bottle. It feels so heavy in his hands despite only having a few small pills inside. He can’t look at it anymore, though he can’t bring himself to look up at the doctor either.

“How much do I owe you?” he finally brings himself to ask. He feels disconnected. “I’m afraid I don’t have much money, however.”

“Then don’t pay.”

Yusuke looks up to her incredulously. She must be joking.

“I cannot do that. Surely there must be some way to pay you for your help.”

Takemi’s eyebrows raise, seemingly surprised. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans into her hip.

“Alright, how about this... Let me keep that,” she points to the Gardenia on the desk, “and I’ll consider that payment.”

“That flower...?” Yusuke hesitates, unsure how such a disgusting thing could possibly cover medical expenses.

“It’s not just a flower, kid. I want to study it. I have plenty of samples from my other patient, but one from a completely different host? I'm not sure you get how valuable that is, considering the rarity of this illness to begin with.”

Yusuke looks to the bowl and sees some of the petals over the rim. He supposes she does have a point, yet he can’t quite explain the attachment he feels towards it. It’s a hindrance and disgusting and yet the Gardenia is not at fault. It is still beautiful. He finally relents.

“If that is what you truly want.”

“Thank you.” Takemi says with a gentle smile. She sets her clipboard down on the desk and pulls the bowl closer to herself with a pen on the rim. “Hopefully I’ll be able to learn something for the future. Hmm... It’s not the same kind of flower. I wonder what causes the differences...” She begins muttering to herself briefly as Yusuke stands from his seat.

“May I ask what it is?”

Takemi turns to him and looks at Yusuke quizzically.

“The other patient’s flower.”

She seems to consider his words before standing straight.

“I suppose that wouldn’t hurt. It’s a Rose.”

Yusuke nods, and somehow knowing calms his heart a little. It makes her words feel a little more real. There really is someone else suffering like he is. What an odd comfort to take.

“Thank you for your help. I deeply appreciate it.”

Takemi smiles. It feels sad.

“If you need anything, give me a call.” She suddenly looks to the door sharply, “And your friend doesn’t need to eavesdrop anymore.” There’s a bang as Ryuji scrambles and curses from the other side of the door.

 

Ryuji walks Yusuke back to his dorm with little incident. As his door clicks shut behind him, Yusuke looks down to the pill bottle in his hand, a complete and utter acceptance and submission. He truly won’t recover. He feels empty as he opens the bottle.

It rattles when he puts it down on his desk. He takes a seat and he’s left in the dark room. His hands have that all too familiar itch for his brushes and pens. If he’s drawing, he won’t be able to concentrate on anything else and nothing sounds better.

As he gathers his sketchbook and pencils together, Yusuke pauses. He takes his phone and stares down at it. He already knows what he’ll find, but he supposes now more than ever he needs some finality. The forum page has been bookmarked. When the posts load, and Yusuke scrolls through the bared heart, the last post was updated well over two month ago now.

It settles it.

Yusuke sets himself to work and decides this is no longer something he should keep to himself. Akira will eventually need to know.

 

_ August 1, Monday; Afternoon _

It’s an outright downpour today.

Rainy days have never bothered Yusuke and he could never quite understand the animosity some people held towards such weather. They were peaceful; quiet. The rain cast a wonderfully pleasant white noise that helped his concentration. The world became muted in gray overtones, yet the spark of color that managed to breach the melancholy became such vibrant hues. The world was different when it rained. It felt more kind.

Yusuke wanted to think today was going to be kind. The ache in his chest had dulled to something manageable after a few days of taking the medication that back alley doctor had given him. He was almost able to completely ignore the irritation and growing pressure building in his chest during the palace exploration the other day.

Any coughing fit he had during the frantic exit was easily excused away as the sudden excursion and debris from the crumbling pyramid. He wasn’t the only one; Makoto choking on the dust, as well as Akira. Ann seemed particularly worried.

But the rain was welcome today.

It beats heavily against his umbrella as Yusuke makes his way through the busy streets. Akira had made plans with him to spend the day at LeBlanc, but a call from the owner of the small flower shop had made them adjust those plans. Certainly not ideal. Yusuke liked how the rain sounded against the roof of the cafe and the quiet chatter that drifted in from the open windows.

An opportunity arose that Yusuke couldn’t ignore, however. Akira knew flowers and as long as he carefully watches his steps, Yusuke might be able to learn something. It’s futile in the long run, he knows, but the morbid curiosity is overwhelming. And maybe it’s a little self-damning, but he wants to hear it from Akira’s mouth, and not some wall of text on the internet.

The underground mall feels a more crowded than usual. The rain keeping people at bay and it’s of little surprise. Yusuke’s umbrella is loose in his hand as he weaves through the chattering crowds. Maybe the air is thick from the humidity, or maybe he knows exactly why, but he tries to keep his breathing under control. The medicine helps, but like the doctor had told him, it was not a cure-all.

The fresh, crisp scent of flowers among the plastic and damp air is a welcome relief and Yusuke sees the cute blackboard at the storefront first before he sees the shop owner. She still seems to be all bright, content smiles and Yusuke is glad to see her enthusiasm has not diminished.

She must recognize him from his last visit despite how long it has been as she greets him with a pleasant smile.

“You’re Kurusu-kun’s friend, right?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you. He hasn’t been himself today. One moment, please.” Before Yusuke can ask, the woman turns and he sees Akira for the first time. He’s tending to a vase full of white Roses, staring at the bouquet with a pensive look in his downtrodden eyes. Akira does not seem to properly see the flowers in front of him, but lost in his own turmoil. Despite the solemn atmosphere around him, the bouquet is beautiful. Each blooming rose looks to have been carefully and meticulously placed right where it needs to be.

Akira perks up when the store owner addresses him, and he quickly looks behind him to Yusuke. There’s something gentle about the way Akira looks at him, and how he himself looks in that dark green apron, surrounded by potted and arranged flowers. It feels light a ribbon has been tied around his neck and Yusuke himself is tying the knot. The longer he looks, the tighter his throat becomes and he doesn’t want to look away.

Amazing how something so simple and domestic can be such a beautiful sight. Maybe he well and truly is doomed.

Akira nods at something his boss says and adjusts the knot of his apron as she leaves the store. She gives Yusuke one last smile before she disappears into the crowd.

“Something came up and she needed me to watch the store for a little while,” Akira explains when he finally walks over. He’s smiling, but it isn’t quite reaching his eyes. Looking him over now, Akira still doesn’t seem to be feeling well from the other week. Yusuke isn’t sure if he should bring it up.

“Will I be a distraction, then?” Yusuke asks earnestly. Akira does not necessarily need this job, but Yusuke does not want to be any sort of trouble for him and the store owner. Akira hesitates.

“No. Please stay,” he finally says. Yusuke cannot say no.

A customer disrupts them and Akira needs to get back to work. It gives Yusuke the break he needs to look at what flowers are offered here.

Despite the size of the store, the owner manages to stock quite a variety of flowers, both in shape and color. It’s a vibrant display that is clearly tended to with great care. Any other day Yusuke would have paid more mind to the colorful arrangements, but he’s focused on finding that one elegant flower he’s grown so intimately familiar with.

The milky white he has been looking for is just off to the side. The plant is still in it’s own pot, proudly growing among some other gentle buds. The soft, wavy petals are the same, the flower cradled by its rich, deep green leaves. It looks to be an overall hardy plant, and Yusuke reaches up and runs a finger carefully over a petal.

“Do you like Gardenias?”

Yusuke quickly pulls his hand away and looks to Akira, startled by his sudden presence. He looks behind Akira and sees the man he had been busy with walk off with a simple yet elegant box. Yusuke wonders what flowers he had been gifted with and what will become of them. Akira patiently stands by and Yusuke returns his gaze.

“They’ve grown on me recently,” Yusuke settles with. “Despite everything, I find them to be rather beautiful.”

Akira tilts his head at Yusuke’s choice of words, but eventually looks to the flower in question. His gray eyes soften and the small smile finally reaches them. It’s a relief and Yusuke swallows down the rising lump in his throat.

“They are.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Hm?” Akira looks back to Yusuke, and Yusuke grips the umbrella in his hand a little tighter.

“I want to know more about Gardenias. I am aware I could find what I’m looking for online, but I want to hear it first-hand from someone who has genuine enthusiasm for the subject. I want to hear it from you.”

Akira just stares. Yusuke doesn’t think there was anything particularly odd about his request, but Akira looks back to the flower and swallows thickly. He finally nods.

“Okay. I mean, I’ll tell you what I can,” he says as he twists some of his bangs between his fingers. It’s an endearing quirk. “I’m not an expert, but what do you want to know?”

“Tell me what you can.”

So Akira does.

Yusuke receives something of a crash course of the flower, occasionally interrupted by a customer’s request. They’re tropical plants and if Yusuke is honestly interested in one, Akira warns they are not necessarily easy to care for, needing certain care for soil and watering requirements or the flowers risk not opening properly, or falling off entirely.

Akira had been hesitant at first, but he seems knowledgeable enough, answering each of Yusuke’s questions thoroughly and with care. It’s fascinating to watch him talk and coax such lengthy discussion out of Akira. That ribbon around his neck is tightening and Yusuke knows he can’t stay much longer.

Akira’s latest customer finally leaves with a grateful smile on her face and he promptly returns to Yusuke’s side.

“Were you planning a still life, or something?” Akira asks. Yusuke is grateful to see some life back in him.

“Something of that sort, yes.” Yusuke lies.

“Do you want me to make you an arrangement?”

The offer surprising Yusuke and Akira smiles. He’s already stepping away before Yusuke can properly protest. He watches Akira consider some of the other flowers, carefully selecting a few before crouching down by the cooler. There’s more Gardenias ready to be sold back there.

Akira carefully wraps the bundle of flowers in cellophane before he approaches, and offers the bouquet out to Yusuke. The Gardenias are crisp and the white Camellias offer a pleasing textual difference next to the large flowers. There’s pleasant buds, rich yet gentle blue that hang down in bundles. The Bluebells are vibrant against the soft white.

Yusuke is hesitant to take the bouquet, but Akira’s genuine smile is hard to fight. He’ll have to sacrifice the emergency train fare, but it’ll be worth it.

“How much will this be?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Yusuke quickly looks up from the bundle of flowers in his arms to Akira disbelievingly. Surely Akira wouldn’t take advantage of his boss’ trust in him. Yusuke is about to make that protest, but Akira raises his hand to stop him.

“I’m paying for it. It’s a gift.”

“Akira...”

“I mean, you always give me things when we go somewhere together.” Akira is rubbing his hand at the side of his neck, and his face is dusting that charming shade of pink once again. Yusuke brings the bouquet closer to himself and smiles. He feels like he’s going to choke if he stays any longer and he doesn’t care. If he stops breathing in this moment, if his lungs bust and all that’s left of him are discarded flower petals, it wouldn’t be so bad.

Akira is so kind.

“This will be a beautiful piece,” Yusuke assures. It’s all he can say. Speaking is suddenly painful.

“I’m glad.”

Another customer stops by, taking Akira’s time and attention, and Yusuke takes the opportunity to sneak off. He hopes he can make it back to the dorms. Yusuke holds the bouquet close as he opens his umbrella and steps back into the downpour.

Today was very kind despite the tightening ribbon around his neck.

 

_ August 8, Monday; Afternoon _

The bell chimes overhead and Yusuke fights down the pressure building in his chest. It’s taken time, but he’s finally come to how he needs to handle the situation. Sojiro offers half a smile as Yusuke takes a seat at the booth nearest the door.

“I’ll let him know you're here,” Sojiro says as he sets down his rag and steps towards the stairs. Akira should be expecting him. They had made plans the previous night. Yusuke sets an art book down on the table and looks over the cover. There’s so much he wants to say and he hopes he can portray it all.

No matter what Akira says, it’s better he knows. Yusuke rubs at his neck absentmindedly, a small smile on his face.

He almost misses Morgana’s piercing blue eyes from the top of the stairs looking his way. The cat backs away, back to Akira’s attic and Yusuke’s brow furrows.

It’s quite some time before Yusuke finally hears steps on the back stairs. The first thing Yusuke notices is how pale Akira looks. It’s been well over a week since Yusuke noticed Akira starting to slow—it’s verging on two weeks now.

The second thing he notices is the bag slung over Akira’s shoulder. It shifts when he stops at Yusuke’s booth. Morgana must be inside. Yusuke feels himself deflate at the implication presented to him.

“I’m sorry, Yusuke,” Akira says as he rubs the side of his neck. He sounds hoarse and Yusuke wonders if he’s getting worse. “I got a call from Hanasaki-san. She needs me to come in today.”

It isn’t the first time they’ve had to cancel plans, but Yusuke still has to fight down the urge to protest.

“Then it can’t be helped,” Yusuke settles with. Despite the disappointment, he still offers Akira a gentle smile. Akira hesitates before he looks away. The smile slips and Yusuke looks up to him with concern. “We’ll plan for another day.”

“Yeah.” Akira shifts the bag further up his shoulder as he fidgets on his spot. He takes one last glance Yusuke’s way before he turns to the door. “I’m sorry again.” And Akira is gone.

Yusuke looks down at his book on the table. A finger runs over the side against the pages, gently flipping them. He supposes he has time, though the sudden full sensation in his chest suggests otherwise.

After a visit to the restroom he hopes wasn’t disruptive, Yusuke says farewell to Boss and heads to the station.

 

_ August 11, Thursday; Afternoon _

Yusuke’s phone buzzes in his pocket as he’s on the train to Shibuya. It’s from Akira.

> **[Akira]:** I have to cancel today.   
>  **[Akira]:** I’m sorry.

The train pulls into the station and Yusuke is a little disappointed he won’t be able to listen to the rain patter against LeBlanc’s roof.

 

_ August 13, Saturday; Evening _

Akira is a naturally quiet person. Yusuke is used to the short responses he usually gives. They’re small, yet thoughtful and usually what Yusuke needs to hear, laced with care and consideration.

Akira has not responded at all to Yusuke’s messages.

 

_ August 16, Tuesday; Evening _

The rain is pounding against his umbrella like his heart against his ribs by the time Yusuke makes it to the station stairs. He takes a deep breath as he shakes out his umbrella and folds it away. Yusuke takes one last look out to the station square, watches the rain splatter the ground and hopes he can swallow down the nervous energy blooming in his chest.

He does not want to think it, but Akira has been oddly quiet the past few days. The rational part of his mind reasons that Akira has other responsibilities that he needs to tend to. He cannot spend all his free time with Yusuke, yet Yusuke knows that already. There’s still unease pricking at his gut. Even if Akira had other obligations, he still made a point to return messages.

Yusuke’s private messages still remain unanswered.

The air feels heavy as he heads down the steps towards the underground mall, surrounded yet again by the faceless crowds and gossipy chatter. It’s just a hunch, as he has no means of asking, but Yusuke is hoping Akira is working today. He usually takes the day shifts from what he can remember. He does not wish to corner him, but this is not something he can let sit much longer.

Just taking those steps has him almost panting for breath as he feels that ribbon return.

As he turns the corner, Yusuke manages to catch Akira at the end of the hall speaking with his manager. She waves him off when he leaves and only a few steps later does Akira abruptly stop. There’s that particular glare off his glasses, but Yusuke knows he sees him.

Akira’s bag shifts, jarring his shoulder as Morgana pops his head out. It’s impossible to catch anything of what they could be talking about, but Akira nods and steps forward again. Yusuke steels himself as well and wills himself to move. He just wants to understand and he wants Akira to understand.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Akira starts when he finally reaches Yusuke, his tone light. Yusuke can almost feel the hesitancy coming off him and how odd. He’s never lacked confidence before and Yusuke isn’t sure how to approach any longer. It’s hard to ignore how tired Akira looks as well. He still must be feeling ill, yet he still insists on pushing himself. Yusuke’s heart aches for him. 

“Apologies for coming unannounced,” Yusuke says, his hand pressing to his chest as he looks over Akira and the bags forming under his eyes. “There is a matter I must speak to you about.” Yusuke has to swallow down his nerves. 

Akira hesitates, conflicted. He swallows thickly. 

“I’m sorry, Yusuke. Is there any chance it can wait? I… really need to get home.” 

Something isn’t right. Akira isn’t this avoidant and even if he has other obligations, he always was willing to lend an ear. Yusuke bites down the irrational entitlement. Akira isn’t feeling well, yet this is a precarious situation. This cannot wait much longer. Yusuke clears his throat. 

“If I could just take a moment of your time.” 

“Yusuke…” 

Do they have time to put this off? Yusuke doesn’t think so, and he can’t look past Akira’s odd behavior. 

“Is everything alright, Akira? You’re not quite acting yourself.” 

Akira’s breath hitches as his grip on the strap of his bag tightens. 

“Look, I just really have to go right now. We’ll talk later. I promise.” 

“Like you’ve said before?” Yusuke says, blunt. It isn’t fair of him to pull that card, and Yusuke knows that, but his chest tangles with frustration because he just wants Akira to listen. Akira runs a hand through his hair and sucks in a breath. There’s a glare off his glasses, but even behind them Yusuke can see his brow furrow. His hand lets go of his hair. It’s still shaking. 

“I need to be alone right now,” Akira rasps before leaving, darting through the crowd and disappearing. Yusuke is left staring down the hallway. He can feel his mouth flood and he’s unable to yell after him. 

 

_ August 18, Thursday; Afternoon _

> **[Ann]:** Something happened between you and Akira, didn’t it?   
>  **[Ann]:** You don’t have to tell me what, but I really hope you two can settle it.

The messages have a timestamp from this morning. Yusuke doesn’t see them until later in the afternoon. As he looks down at his phone and the chat app, it’s the first time all day he’s been able to catch his breath. Sitting on the floor besides his futon, Yusuke does not want to look at how full the trash bin has become of those milky white petals, or how raw and tender his throat is. 

He does not want to think about how empty his chest feels. 

His fingers shake as he finally gets about to responding to Ann’s texts. Yusuke isn’t sure he even wants to but ignoring her might aggravate the situation. 

> **[Yusuke]:** I will talk with Akira when he wishes to talk with me.   
>  **[Ann]:** I shouldn’t be the one to say this, but Akira wants to talk.   
>  **[Ann]:** Just give him time. 

Yusuke doesn’t respond to any of her other texts. His stomach churns all over again and as he accepts what his stomach is about to do, he knows time is not something he has to give. 

 

_ August 19, Friday; Afternoon _

Time is not on their side as they wait for Futaba to wake up, and Mementos does not rest, either. A part of Yusuke wanted to ignore the summons—a selfish, childish part of him. He knew he cannot and he prayed the medication will at least get him through. It is doing absolutely nothing for his stomach that turns over for an all too familiar reason as they ride through the dark, dank tunnels. 

Skull is eyeing him wearily. Fox does not question it. 

It’s an inkling of a suspicion, but Fox doubts that they will be here long. Akira was clearly still not doing well when they had all met up for a quick briefing, so Joker is a little sluggish. Panther has not left his side since they had all met up. 

They are only after one target today: Mogami Yumeko, a cyberstalker with a concerning obsession with the boy of her desire. Fox decisively sucks on a ginger candy that Joker ensures to always have on hand. It’s not proper motion sickness medicine, but it settles his stomach enough. 

He hopes it’ll keep up today. 

There’s had been no sign of the girl’s Shadow all through Chemdah, but Mona had been determined that the target was within this block. They’re on the last level before the blocked station door, and Fox already feels as though he is at his limit. It’s pitiful how little stamina he’s been able to maintain. As they all stand before the escalators leading further down, Fox takes the moment to just breathe. He can feel Skull’s eyes still on him, but he makes no move or comment to regard it. 

“The target’s just down below us. I can feel it!” Mona exclaims. Joker just nods in agreement as he eyes the dark corridor leading down. He turns his attention back to the group. 

“Queen, Mona. I want you two to hang back. Everyone else, with me.” His voice is hoarse, though it’s clear he is trying to push past it. He’s trying to keep up the confidant facade. 

“Whoa, wait, hold up!” Skull interrupts, “Don’t you think one of ‘em should be with you instead of us heavy hitters? Ya know for like… support and shit.” Even Fox can hear the reach Skull is trying make sound legitimate, but the logic is sound. He’s trying to cover for him again. 

Joker looks his way, and even behind the elegant mask, Fox can still see the hesitancy. Maybe Ann was right. Fox has to fight down the irritating tingle at the back of his throat. A metallic tang fills his mouth. 

“No, Panther and I will support you two.”

Fox almost offers his position to Queen anyway, but seeing the way Joker is looking at him, expectant but not demanding, Fox cannot say no. Akira has his reasons and Yusuke trusts him despite it all. Fox will follow Joker. 

They all head to the escalator steps. 

“Don’t push yourself,” Panther says quietly to Joker as they stand on the moving steps just ahead of everyone else. Fox has to wonder just how much she knows and what exactly she knows. There’s too much to worry about though, and he can’t afford to dedicate any more attention to something that, in the end, is inconsequential. Joker just shoots her what he thinks is a charming smile. It is. 

“You worry too much,” he retorts before taking the steps in earnest, leaving Panther pouting as she watches him go on ahead. It’s not hard to pick up on the concern radiating from her gaze. 

Everyone stops at the landing. A subway train rushes past on the side, obscuring the eerie red glow of the dingy lights until it has disappeared down the bleek tunnels along with the screech of steel on steel. A dark figure stands near the sealed door. Even from the other side of the landing, Fox can feel its yellow eyes locked onto them. It makes no move yet. 

“There it is,” Mona says, firm yet hushed. “Mogami’s Shadow.”

“She’s smirking. That’s kinda creepy…” Skull mumbles to himself as he can’t seem to look away from it. Panther seems to be unable to look away as well. Her gaze is sharp. 

“Her blog is full of all her crazy thoughts. She must be lost in some sort of sick romance fantasy.” Despite her harsh tone, Fox cannot help but think Panther sounds at least a little empathetic. Skull turns to her and everyone else. 

“Shouldn’t we do somethin’ about it before she can hurt anybody?” 

“Of course,” Mona nods decisively. Everyone turns towards the Shadow. Its smirk is splitting as its heavy gaze bores down on them. “Let’s do it!”

The dark aura that surrounds it is off putting and as the vanguard approaches it feels to surge. Its smirk vanishes and there’s suddenly empty hatred in its hard, gold stare. 

“What are you Phantom Thieves doing!? I know why you’d go after Kamoshida, but why me!?” It yells out. Panther is the one to step forward, head held high.

“Hey. I don’t blame you for falling in love, but there’s a point where it goes too far.” 

The Shadow seems to anger more. It jabs an accusatory finger out towards Panther. 

“You! You’re that bitch trying to steal Ikesugi-kun away from me!” 

“Who are you calling a bitch!?” Panther gasps. Whether she means to rile up the Shadow like this or not, it’s only going to cause a problem for them down the line. But Joker has not stepped in yet, carefully watching the confrontation in front of him. He’s waiting for an opening. “And I’m not interested in Ikesugi!”

“Hmph! You’re just some loser, hanging out with some lame guys and—” 

A gunshot rings and the Shadow silences. By its feet, a crater where a bullet had struck smokes and Joker keeps the gun raised. A warning shot.

“Enough.” 

Mogami’s Shadow looks up to him, gaze intense and face contorted in desperate rage. The air around them seems to stagnate, a foul, stale stench filling the station platform. The Shadow screams as its dark aura explodes and its body bends backwards unnaturally. Fox’s stomach drops again at the sight, before what’s left of the figure dissolves and its true nature bursts forth. 

“Ready yourselves,” Joker says over the roar of the trains passing by. 

“Don’t get in the way of romance!” The screech seems to echo across the station, only to be drowned out by yet another passing train. Fox keeps his icy stare on the decrepit bear. This is not an ideal place for a fight, but leading it back up the escalators would be impossible. His breath catches as he lowers himself and he hopes this will be resolved quickly. 

Joker’s mask is already igniting, hand raised over his face, and even with the fatigue his eyes are still intense and piercing through the blue flames. An elegant woman hangs over head, her skin dark gray, and long black flowing hair emerging behind two large green combs. Her yellow eyes are just as piercing as she holds her hand close to her at the ready. 

“Skull! Fox! Don’t give that thing a chance to think. Panther, with me!” 

The woman’s hand flings out in front of her when Joker does the same and Yusuke feels as though he can suddenly shatter the very ground. Skull’s bright wide smirk says he feels the same.

“Oh, hell yeah!” And Skull is already charging ahead, mask in flames and bat dragging along the cracked concrete of the platform. The dangling bear screams at the oncoming assault. The split, distended stomach full of rotting skulls looks fit to burst and Fox tries not to think what a putrid image that would make as his own hand presses to his chest as he focuses on a steady breath. It feels like breathing through a pinched straw, but he darts off to the side. He needs to focus. He will not lag behind and he will push it down.

It’s not even a matter of hiding it anymore.

Skull is managing to keep the Shadow’s attention well enough with his reckless, unrelenting advance, bat swinging wide and Captain Kidd firing bolt after bolt of erratic lightening. The hull of the Persona’s ship slams into the Shadow, sending it flying a few meters back. With blue flames, Goemon slams a foot down and ice shoots up from the ground right when the bear hits the cement. It scream is cut off, frozen in place and its yellow, beady eyes stare vacantly out. 

Fox keeps charging, hand tight around the hilt of his katana at his side. The ice starts to chip away as the Shadow struggles, but Fox’s sword slices through before it can right itself. Heat violently snaps and crackles behind him before he can properly turn, but he trusts Panter and Hecate’s fire. The agonizing wail rings out into the dark tunnels, consumed by the dust and smoke of the fire. 

His sword slides into the scabbard, and out of the cloud of smoke the Shadow darts out. Fox watches with despair as he doesn’t have the stamina to move out of the way. The solid mass of its forearm slams into his gut and he’s sent flying across the platform, slamming and skidding across the concrete. He finally rolls to a stop, and as he’s lying there near the edge of the platform, Fox cannot breathe. 

He doesn’t know if it’s the petals or the shock of the impact caving his ribs in that makes his lungs refuse to cooperate, but he rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself up onto his knees, a hand firmly pressing into his stomach. His chest feels as though it’s going to give out in a way he’s never felt before and it’s absolutely sickening. 

“Kushinada-Hime!” 

It’s a cooling wave of relief, though Fox still gags against the sensation of his ribs shifting back into place. It’s so unnatural, but Fox finally gets a brief moment of breath as his airways shift and he coughs up the large petals onto the dirty, cracked cement that had suddenly filled his mouth. It’s too many and they cover the ground below him in a bed. He doesn’t acknowledge the red tinge to them. Fox glances over to Joker, his hand still raised near his face, though his mask is present. That look in his eyes, the disbelief and horror spur Fox to move. It’s not ideal, but it will do. 

He looks back to the Shadow decisively, and spits out one more petal from his mouth with a silent snarl. Putting his weight on his sword as he stands, he readies himself for another assault. It irritates the back of his throat, that metallic taste, and his lungs ache but he can ignore it. He can push through it. 

“Fox, fall back,” Joker says. Fox bristles against the irritation with himself. 

“I can still fight,” he grits out.

“Fall back—!” Joker all but shouts, before his voice clips and his own breath seems to catch. It’s enough to drag Fox’s attention from the Shadow to their leader. His gray eyes are intense, and all Fox can feel from it is concern. Fox nods and Panther is the one to dart forward to help Skull. Fire cracks once again and the Shadow cries out as Captain Kidd slams its ship into its body. The decrepit bear hits the sealed passage and finally stills. The form starts to fizzle out before melting away and the girl they had met first lies on the floor. 

Joker shoots Fox one last glance and Fox sees the honest exhaustion in his eyes. There’s something else, something Fox can’t quite name and he isn’t sure he wants to. It makes his chest ache all over again. He doesn’t know what to say. Joker steps towards the girl’s Shadow as it pushes itself up on shaky arms. 

“M-My romance… My passion…” it mumbles, and finally looks up to Joker. The animosity in its gaze has diminished. “I can’t believe it was all wrong… What is real love and romance!?” It pleads as it sits on the dirty ground of the station platform. Joker seems to hesitate. 

“You’ll understand one day,” is all he offers, voice low and rough. His shoulders are slumped, nowhere near the confidant posture Joker usually holds. He’s already taking a step back as Panther steps forward and crouches down to be eye level with the Shadow. It looks between the two desperately. 

“Someday!? When will that be!?” Joker keeps walking back towards the escalators. “What should I do with all of these feelings inside of me…?” 

“Just tell him face to face, and don’t write weird stuff on your blog,” Panther says kindly, and somehow, Fox gets the feeling she is not only speaking to the Shadow. “It’ll take courage though.” 

Mogami’s Shadow looks to her, seems to honestly consider her words before it hesitantly nods. Its golden eyes do not feel so heavy. “I’m scared, but… I’ll do it! Please, wait for me, Ikesugi-kun!” The Shadow has a bright smile on its face as it begins to fade. 

Fox only watches until the moment it vanishes completely before turning to look back for Joker. Skull is at Fox’s side, hand carefully pressed to his back. He asks him a question, but Fox doesn’t hear it. Logically, he was probably inquiring about his welling being, but Fox doesn’t even want to fake an answer. 

Queen and Mona are back by the escalators, waiting for everyone to return, and then Joker collapses. Fox watches as their leader doesn’t even try to catch himself as he hits the ground. The way his body bounces makes his stomach drop.

“Joker!” Panther is already scrambling to her feet and darting his way, “You idiot!” She’s at Joker’s side along with Mona and Queen when Fox can finally will himself to move and he doesn’t care how much running burns his lungs. 

Joker wheeze painfully and Fox finds himself unable to breathe as well. It’s mostly panic. 

“Wh-What’s wrong with him?” Queen hesitantly asks, her nervous hands hovering. Panther gives her a pained and torn look as Joker pushes himself up on his knees and sits. It dawns on him that she knows exactly what’s going on. Fox is hesitant, and he tries to get a hold of that tightening ribbon around his own neck. He can’t get a deep breath. He steps forward the rest of the way and crouches down to Joker’s other side.

His eyes behind that mask are wet and his mouth is open. There’s no sound for a painfully long pause. Mona is pacing anxiously, keeping his sharp blue eyes on their leader as Panther rubs at his shoulder and back. 

Joker finally gasps, only for it to be followed by a violent coughing fit. His hands quickly cover his mouth as though to protest what his body is trying to expel. Fox knows exactly how terrible that feels, and he just dumbly watches Joker fold into himself as he gags against his own hands.

Panther’s other hand comes up and brushes his fringe out of his face. 

“Stop,” she chasides, with a rough crease to her eyes. “You know you shouldn’t do that.” Joker’s eyes screw shut at her words before he weakly nods. One of his hands finally moves to prop himself on the ground just in time for his body to convulse. He’s almost completely silent as white petals slip from between his fingers, soft and delicate. 

There’s so many piling up in his hand, Fox can finally tell, and he doesn’t even realize he’s reaching out until Joker flinches at the touch to his shoulder. Fox pulls his hand away as though the boy before him is scolding. He still isn’t breathing either. 

With a violent cough that racks Joker’s entire body, he manages to let an entire head of a white Rose fall from his mouth and catches it in his hands. More petals follow after, but the white is stark against the red gloves. His gasps for air are shaky, but controlled. As though this is not an uncommon occurrence. 

Of course. Fox’s lungs feel full as does his mouth. Of course he would be the one with the Rose. 

When the fit seems to be mostly over, Joker finally sits up, and lets his hands fall to his lap. The white Rose and some of its petals are still cradled in his hands. His breath is still labored, but he takes a moment to just breathe. When his eyes open again, he turns to Fox. 

Fox’s breath catches all over again, and looking at Joker like this—no, the one looking at him with such open and vulnerable eyes that makes his very heart sing and demands capture on canvas in impossible and fervent ways is his very muse, is Akira—Yusuke is overcome with such consuming fondness and care. He understands this pain and doesn’t want to be hopeful, but Akira looks resolute. His smile is so soft and Yusuke cannot take it. His hand comes up against his own chest, above his aching heart. His chest, his mouth, is too full to say anything. Akira seems to understand and his weak smile grows. 

“You should spit those out,” he says, and his voice is so rough, it’s painful to hear. “It’s not good to keep swallowing it down. Trust me.” That charming smile he tries to keep up slips as the two keep looking at each other. A somber look passes over Akira. “…This is what you wanted to talk about the other day.” It wasn’t posed as a question. 

Yusuke nods and he can’t stop the coughing gasp that slips. Some of the Gardenia petals slip from his lips and he brings his hand up to press against his mouth. A train roars past and some of the petals scatter. The full Rose is still in Akira’s hands. There’s sympathy in his gaze. 

Laughter starts to bubble up from the bottom of his gut, cold and nervous and Yusuke cannot control it. He bends over himself, hand still firmly pressed to his mouth as he shakes from the nervous energy. This isn’t funny. Nothing about this is funny and he cannot control the laughter. He can hear Akira say something to the others, but it doesn’t register as his mask presses against his forehead as he leans into the cement. 

Akira clears his throat, and ends up spitting out a number of petals off to the side again. 

“You really should spit those out,” he finally says once Yusuke’s inaine laughing fit subsides. He supposes Akira has a point. Yusuke lifts his head just enough to bring the mask off the ground and lets his mouth fall open. More large white petals litter the ground beneath him. 

They both fall silent and Yusuke realizes the others have stepped away to give them some semblance of privacy. He appreciates it. Carefully, Akira leans forward to turn his body so he can properly face Yusuke. 

“You weren’t kidding, then.” 

Yusuke looks back to Akira, waiting for him to elaborate. Akira gets the hint pretty quick.

“Gardenias.” He motions to a few of the wavy, milk white petals littered about. “‘They grew on you.’” 

Yusuke stares up at Akira for a beat before a breathless laugh bubbles out. It’s genuine. He lets his eyes fall shut for a moment as he sits up a bit more properly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.” Akira’s voice is small and Yusuke opens his eyes again and sees Akira gazing down at the Rose in his hands. Another train passes by and more petals scatter. A thumb nudges one of the petals in his palm. “I guess now is as good a time as any.” His words catch and as he clears his throat, yet another petal needs to be spit out. 

Akira finally looks up and holds Yusuke’s gaze. His eyes look so tired and yet the red glow from the lights behind them catch the gray in such a warm and intriguing way. Yusuke has not seen a color quite like it before. 

“I’m sorry I kept it from you,” Akira admits, low and open. “But I was worried. I know how you feel. About what we’ve done for you.” Akira leans forward yet doesn’t cross the line into Yusuke’s personal space. His eyes command attention and Yusuke finds he doesn’t mind. “I kept silent because I know you think you owe me something, and I was worried about pressuring you into a relationship.” 

All Akira has done so far has only proven what Yusuke already knows about him. His hand tightens its grip on his suit, nerves shot, but Yusuke wants nothing more than keep listening. The persistent ache in his chest that has grown to be a constant part of his life ebbs, yet his heart pounds against his ribs painfully in a new and unfamiliar way. It leaves him lightheaded. 

“But… I still think about you.” Akira is still going. And how candid does his voice sound, quiet against the everpresent hum of the tunnels. Yusuke doesn’t dare speak. It might shatter. “About your smile. About your enthusiasm and the amazing way you see the world. You don’t demand anything from me, but you make me want to do better.” 

The smile that spreads across Akira’s face is hesitant. Somehow, that small gesture is the warmest thing Yusuke has ever seen. He wants nothing more than to see it again. Every single day, if he could help it. 

“I like you,” Akira breathes, voice hoarse. He looks down, but Yusuke is not worried. He knows he’s still smiling. He desperately hopes he’ll keep smiling because what a beautiful, candid thing it is. It’s yet another side of Akira that Yusuke wants. 

The urge to reach out and touch is overwhelming and Yusuke lets himself go. He hastily pushes his white mask off his face and lets his gloved hand glide over Akira’s cheek. Dragging himself even closer, he buries his face in the crook of Akira’s shoulder, between the high collar of that black coat and his neck. Akira’s whole body seems to lax and he feels him press his cheek against the side of Yusuke’s head.

Yusuke’s breath is ragged and shuddered, and yet it is the easiest he has breathed in weeks. 

“If we are to put it in such an unfeigned way,” Yusuke finally manages say, his thumb tenderly caressing just under Akira’s soft jaw, “I suppose I like you as well.” 

It’s a strange comfort that washes over him as he lets himself say those words. Yusuke remembers what it’s like to not have to carry such a burden; what it’s like to be able to breathe. Akira’s breath sudders, and Yusuke wonders if he is having the same sort of realization. It doesn’t matter. As impossible as it is, he just pulls Akira’s body closer and just lets himself breathe. There’s some shuffling at the side of his head as Akira presses closer himself, mouth and nose pressing against Yusuke’s hair, and Yusuke feels content in this moment. 

“Come what may,” Yusuke mutters against the high gray collar, “I will not dare lose what a precious gift you have given me. I will not lose my muse.” Yusuke pulls away just enough to look at Akira, close enough he can feel his breath ghost over his skin. It fills him with a grounding sense of satisfaction and even he can tell what an odd thing to take comfort in. But he reaches up with delicate fingers and pushes that white, elegant mask up and out of the way. There’s such a charming dust of soft pink on Akira’s cheeks, even in this unflattering red oppressing light overhead. 

There is still an ache in his chest. It is something he is sure he will need to live with, but it isn’t oppressing anymore. It is no longer hanging over him like an omen. Akira smiles and Yusuke’s breath is stolen for a whole new reason.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — Epilogue

Akira has an appointment with Takemi in half an hour. 

Yusuke knows he will not make much progress in that time, but the painting is coming along beautifully. He loves the dull, monotone light coming from the windows as the rain patters against the glass. He loves how it brings out such a sublime light to those knowing gray eyes. Yusuke thinks of which paints to mix to get even close to the hues.

“I should get ready soon. Takemi doesn’t like it when I run late,” Akira says as he lies on the spare futon. His finger gently taps against the soft white petals of a Rose resting by his mouth. A morbid reference, but they both know it. It was Akira’s idea.

He makes no move to get up yet. 

Yusuke looks down at him from his stool and canvas. Recovery has been a process, and Akira has taken the brunt of it. Takemi insists he’s coming along, and as long as he continues to allow Takemi to monitor the progress, she insists he’ll be fine. The fits have diminished exponentially. Yusuke is incredibly grateful to see that wonderful and vibrant life has returned to him.

Remnants still remain, though. Like Yusuke’s paints staining his cuticles. He feels it as well, but he had been given the same reassurance. Yusuke looks back down to Akira’s prone body splayed out on the futon. He notes the way his eyes flutter behind his eyelids and how his long lashes caress his cheeks. Yusuke watches Akira breathe and he takes his own deep, undisrupted breath. 

What an invigorating feeling. 

Akira has a point. If Yusuke returns to painting, he knows he’ll fall back into it. The appointment is too important to miss, so Yusuke sets his pallet and brushes down. He stands from his stool and Akira’s eyes open to watch. As Yusuke kneels down to sit beside the spare futon, Akira’s gaze grows incredibly soft and Yusuke’s heart goes tender. 

“It’s a shame, really,” Yusuke says. The dull gray hues of the rainy day do not diminish the vibrant life still radiating from Akira’s eyes. 

One of Akira’s brows raise in question. His fingers are still gently fiddling with the white Rose he’s holding by his mouth. Yusuke finds himself leaning closer.

“It will be difficult to recreate this exact lighting again. You look stunning in this.”

Akira looks away and his gaze looks up to the woodwork overhead. A sense of pride swells knowing Akira genuinely loved the gift and took precious time to carefully place each and every star. Akira’s lips purse in exaggerated consideration. 

“Hmm… I guess we’ll just have to try again another time soon.” 

Yusuke looks away to stare out the window. The rain is still pattering against the pane. It’s a pleasant sound but Yusuke regrets that they won’t be able to take advantage of it much longer. 

“The reports say it won’t rain again for another week.” 

Akira laughs and catches Yusuke off guard. When he looks back down to Akira, his muse has a wide smile and such a warmth in his eyes. It makes Yusuke’s heart yearn all over again, though it does leave him a touch confused. He hadn’t thought the weather report was particularly funny. 

“Yusuke,” Akira starts. Yusuke finds he wants to reach out and run his fingers over the petals of the white Rose Akira is persistently toying with. “I’m asking you come over more often.” 

“Ah.” Yusuke smiles. 

The desire is overwhelming and Yusuke lets his hand reach out. Akira slyly moves the rose so it completely covers his mouth as Yusuke’s fingers first touch the soft delicate petals. It doesn’t deter Yusuke in the slightest. Yusuke leans down closer and he can see the way Akira is coyly smiling against the Rose. Yusuke makes a point to hold Akira’s gaze with his own and somehow Akira softens. 

Yusuke’s fingers drift from the petals to Akira’s cheek and trail down to his jawline and neck, and Yusuke absolutely delights in the way Akira’s breath hitches. It isn’t so terrifying anymore. He leans further and Yusuke presses his lips against the folds of the petals over Akira’s mouth. Neither dare look away as Yusuke’s mouth lingers.

His own heart pounds against his ribs and Yusuke swears he can feel Akira’s as well. It’s satisfying and grounding and Akira reaches up with both hands, letting the Rose slip from between them to gently cradle Yusuke’s face between his warm hands. He’s guided down and Yusuke let’s him.

Their lips meet proper and Akira is much more soft and welcoming than the Rose. Yusuke’s breath catches in his lungs but he isn’t scared of it. He decides this is exactly what he wants.

**Author's Note:**

> Gardenia - Secret Love  
> White Rose - Innocence; Silence; Devotion 
> 
> Baby's Breath - Pure of Heart  
> (White) Carnation - Fascination; Distinction; Love (Endearment; Faithfulness; Pure Love)  
> Light Pink Rose - Joy of Life; Youth; Energy  
> Pansies - Thoughtful; Caring  
> Sakura - Kind; Gentle; Transience of Life; Beauty  
> Kuroyuri - Love; Curse  
> Yellow Camellia - Longing  
> Lilly of the Valley - Sweet; Return of Happiness  
> White Camellia - Waiting; Perfected Loveliness  
> Bluebell - Grateful
> 
> Shao's twitter: [@4nimenut](https://twitter.com/4nimenut)  
> My twitter: [@hawkeing_eta](https://twitter.com/hawkeing_eta)


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